Remember Me
by Predec2
Summary: A traumatic event changes Brian's and Justin's lives. Can they find a way to be reunited before it's too late? Justin/Brian. NOT a death fic. Does have Justin/OC for a while.
1. Chapter 1: An Interrupted Reunion

_Night Before - 12:30 a.m._

"I never thought I would see the day," Brian scolded the caller.

"Shut up," Justin retorted. "How else am I supposed to get all my shit back to Pittsburgh? It certainly wouldn't fit in _your_ car."

"Is it my fault you collected so much stuff in one year? For someone who started out practically living on the street, you sure accumulated enough shit in a relatively short time," the brunet pointed out.

"Hey, can I help it if I happened to be successful at what I did? Besides, my art supplies alone would take up the whole trunk space – of a _normal _car, that is."

"I'll have you know my car is _quite_ normal, thank you very much. It just depends on what you want it for. When I bought it, I never thought it would be used as a U-Haul."

Justin snorted. "No worry about _that_. I'm surprised with your long legs YOU even fit into it."

"Why, Sunshine, you never complained before about how I fit."

"Ha, ha….. Just tell me you won't forget to pick me up tomorrow at the station."

"Don't worry, you little twat. I've got it practically branded on my forehead. Mikey has already graciously given me permission to bring his Stepford fagmobile to pick you and all your shit up." He recited, "It leaves Penn Station at 10:50 a.m. tomorrow and gets in at 8:05 p.m. in good old Pittsburgh. Jeez, Justin, nine hours and 20 minutes? Maybe the Greyhound WOULD be better."

"No way, Kinney! Several hours on a crowded bus that fucking stinks, listening to wailing babies and sharing one bathroom? No, thanks – I'll take the Amtrak any day. At least with the first-class seat, I'll have a lot more leg room than a bus and they serve you lunch and dinner, too."

"That's my little ray of Sunshine – always concerned about the _important_ things. How in the world you stay so slim with that fucking high-carb intake is beyond me."

"That's because you always provide me with such intense, vigorous _exercise_, Mr. Kinney," Justin teased. "You just fuck it all off me in no time."

He distinctly heard Brian huff. "Well, I get as good as I give, Mr. Taylor, and I never seem to have that advantage."

"I can't help it if I have good genes and a high metabolism."

"Well, you've always had good _jeans_, and a hot body to fill them with, too."

"Why, that almost sounded like a compliment," the blond marveled.

"Well, don't let it go to your blond little head, Sunshine – I expect a LOT of _vigorous exercise_ out of you tomorrow night."

"It will be my pleasure, Mr. Kinney. Consider it my payment for services rendered."

"Well, it's going to cost you a hell of a LOT. Probably take ALL NIGHT LONG," the brunet drawled sexily.

"That won't be a problem," Justin assured him, as he felt a certain part of his anatomy standing at attention at the thought. "As you know, I excel at working _long, HARD hours – deep into the night." _

Brian chuckled slightly. "Yeah, no argument from me there, Sunshine." He suddenly turned serious as he added, "I'll be there to meet you – don't worry." He actually surprised Justin, then, by admitting truthfully in a soft voice, "I've been waiting for this day for a _long_ time."

The brunet could hear soft breathing and could almost see Justin's wistful smile as he answered. "Yeah, I have too." Regretfully, he said, "Speaking of which, I guess I'd better get off. I still have a little more packing to finish up and it's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow night, Brian." He hesitated a few seconds; he knew Brian was still uncomfortable with expressing emotions. But, fuck it. "I love you," Justin softly said, as he prepared to add, "Later."

Just before he could say anything further, though, Brian surprised him again. He could barely hear it – he said it so softly – but he heard it nonetheless. "Me, too, Sunshine," Brian softly whispered. "Later."

"Later," Justin replied, smiling, before he flipped his cell phone shut. Justin couldn't believe that this day had finally come. This past year away from Brian had been so hard. He knew it was important that he relocate to New York City, at least temporarily, to try and establish his career as an artist, and from a professional standpoint, he hadn't really regretted it. He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. Thanks to a few key contacts with some of Lindsey's acquaintances, within a few months he had developed a devoted following of art patrons and gallery directors who were clamoring for his work. In fact, currently several of his pieces were on display in four different galleries, and he had a standing order to place future artwork in any of them. AND his art was fetching prices in the four-figures.

Yes, thankfully he was now successful enough, and well-known enough in the art world, that he could easily have stayed in New York City and been self-sufficient. He was grateful for all the opportunity, but his success had actually paved the way for him to do what his heart had wanted all along – reunite with the man he loved. And not just several days a month, as they had been doing for the past year; at first, Brian had flown to New York City and rented out a spacious suite at the Trump hotel for his and Justin's rendezvous. But as Justin had become more financially stable, they had traded off visits; a weekend or two each month, he would fly back to Pittsburgh, and he would get to not only be reunited with his partner, but he would have the opportunity to see his family and friends for brief periods.

He had expected, and had received, some flak from Brian when he first broached the idea of moving back a month ago. It had taken several conversations with him before the brunet finally realized Justin was sincere about wanting to come back. He reassured Brian that he could be just as successful back in Pittsburgh with the contacts he now had; he simply had to make himself readily accessible for gallery openings and special events highlighting his work. He could paint anywhere to accomplish that. And he chose to come back to his home town and find a suitable studio there. After all, he reasoned with his partner, studio space would be a lot less expensive back in the Pitts, and it had the added advantage of being able to see his inspiration on a daily basis. In fact, once Brian had finally been convinced this was what Justin wanted, he insisted Justin move back into the loft with him – an idea that the blond enthusiastically agreed with. Brian wasn't fooling him for one second – he may have said it would be best for Justin to remain in New York, but Justin knew that wasn't what Brian wanted. And it wasn't what HE wanted, either.

So it was with a great deal of anticipation that Justin packed the rest of his supplies into the last of his medium-sized, cardboard boxes. He had managed to sell his apartment furnishings to a roommate, so despite what he had told Brian, he was moving back with a relatively small amount. At least it would be small enough to fit into the back of the cab he had called to pick him up first thing in the morning.

Smiling to himself with eagerness, he finally collapsed onto his bed and fell into a fitful sleep, too excited to sleep very deeply as he thought of finally being reunited with the man he loved.

* * *

_Next day – Near Harrisburg, PA – 2:00 p.m._

"Is this the first time you've traveled by train?" the red-haired, middle-aged woman asked her seatmate, smiling.

"Yeah, I've never ridden on a train before," Justin verified. He had been talking to the woman named Valerie, who sat facing him in their cubicle, for several hours now since they had boarded the train together that morning. He had found her to be very entertaining, as she turned out to be a party planner in New York City for several celebrity clients. She had obligingly regaled him with humorous stories about well-known actors and actresses throughout their trip, and had even clued him in on just who the divas were out of the group. He was grateful she had wound up being his seatmate, because her funny stories had helped immensely to pass the time during their long rail journey.

"Well, I never had ridden on one, either, until I moved to New York a few years ago," she confided in him. "I actually look forward to it, now, because I can get so much more done than I can on a plane. Of course, it takes a hell of a lot longer, too, but you can meet some really interesting characters on a train, some in a good way and some in a not-so-good way," she confided, winking.

"I can imagine," Justin answered. He admitted to her, "Actually, it hasn't been as bad as I had thought it would be. At least you can get up and walk around during the trip – no seatbelts – and the food hasn't been half bad. Brian's always teasing me about how much I eat," he said a little sheepishly. "Personally, I think he's just jealous that I can pack away so much food and not gain weight. He says all he has to do is _look_ at high-carb food and he gains weight."

"I bet he doesn't have an ounce of fat on him," Valerie ascertained correctly.

"You're absolutely right," Justin verified to her, grinning. "He's always worried about gaining weight, but he's _gorgeous." _

Justin had told her about his partner, and he was heartened to find out that she was quite accepting of their relationship. It was reassuring to find someone who was open-minded for a change; too often he had encountered just the opposite in his relatively-short life. That would probably wind up being his only regret about moving back to Pittsburgh – there was definitely more tolerance of the gay lifestyle in New York. But being reunited with Brian was more than worth it, he decided.

"Well, we're more than halfway there," Valerie said cheerfully. "The time will pass by before you know it," she reassured him; she had told him previously that she had ridden this same route several times in the past few years to visit family near Pittsburgh.

"I'm glad I got to sit next to you," Justin answered truthfully, smiling. "Thank you for entertaining me."

"My pleasure," she responded. "And thank _you_ for the wonderful drawing. You are so talented." Justin had secretly drawn a picture of her earlier using the back of an old gallery show brochure when she had turned her back slightly to stare out the nearby window for several minutes. When she had noticed what Justin was doing and had finally persuaded the almost-bashful man to show it to her, she was amazed by his talent. He had graciously given her the drawing as a small thank you for the pleasant company she had provided for the past several hours.

Justin smiled shyly at the compliment; even now, after all his success this past year, he was still sometimes unsure that he was worthy of all the praise frequently bestowed upon him. What he didn't realize was that those showering him with such sincere flattery found his humility absolutely charming, which only added to his appeal.

"You're welcome," he finally said with a small blush.

Justin rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over the closed cell phone he cradled in his left hand; he had hoped his phone would work onboard the train, but he had found out to his disappointment that there was too much interference; even though he knew he would see his partner soon, he badly wanted to talk to Brian, to hear his partner's sexy voice. He knew, however, that he would have an opportunity to give him a quick call soon, because the train was nearing the Harrisburg station; they were due to stop there in about 25 minutes. As soon as they did, he was ready to jump off and give his partner a call.

As if she could read his mind, he heard Valerie say, "Don't worry – you'll have several minutes to call him," she said, glancing down at the phone he held anxiously in his hand. "We have to wait for additional passengers to board in Harrisburg, and there's usually quite a few that get on there."

He flushed slightly as he looked up at her before saying, "Thanks. I _would_ like to give him a call. Just to make sure everything's going okay for him to pick me up."

"Of course," she answered with a knowing smile. It was obvious from the way the young man had talked to her about his partner earlier that he loved the other man very much. "You seem very happy to be going back home," she observed.

Justin's radiant smile was enough of an answer before he confirmed, "Yes, I am. I can't wait." His eyes shone as he thought about the impending reunion with his partner.

As the two seatmates turned to look out the window in a companionable silence, Justin briefly noticed the train was traveling through a hilly and heavily-wooded area. That was his last coherent thought before the fast-moving passenger train barreled head-on into an oil tanker truck that had stalled on the tracks ahead of them and the train quickly burst into a wall of flame.


	2. Chapter 2: The World Comes Crashing Down

_Pittsburgh – Kinnetik – 3:00 p.m._

Cynthia's stomach growled as she took a frozen dinner out of the company fridge and placed it in the microwave; normally, she ate her lunch around 1:00 or so, but she, Brian and Ted had been working furiously all morning on the latest campaign pitch for Silhouette Portrait Galleries and she hadn't had a chance to eat until now. She knew that Brian was determined to get everything done before the end of the day, because at long last, Justin was coming back to Pittsburgh and she knew nothing short of an earthquake would keep her boss from meeting him at the train station later this evening. Due to the lateness of the hour, she found herself alone in the break room. She had always found it ironic that this room used to be one of the back steam rooms, aka fuck rooms, when the place was known as the Baths. Brian had just substituted one type of nutrient for another, she thought, smirking.

While she waited for her dinner to heat up, she idly picked up the remote for the company television mounted up on the corner wall and turned the set on, setting the control to mute the volume. After a few seconds, a picture appeared indicating one of the major cable news channels, displaying a "_Breaking News"_ headline that scrawled across the bottom. The caption indicated there had been a catastrophic train wreck near Harrisburg. Curious now, she unmuted the volume to listen as she heard a female reporter revealing details of the crash: "For those of you just turning in, this is what we know so far. Amtrak Train No. 43, known as the _Pennsylvanian_, was westbound at the time of the crash. The train originated at Penn Station in New York City and normally makes several stops between there and its ultimate destination of Pittsburgh. The accident apparently occurred around 2:00 p.m. this afternoon, just before the train was due to make its regularly scheduled 2:30 stop at Harrisburg."

"Oh, my God!" Cynthia clapped her hand over her mouth and froze in shock; she had been given a copy of Justin's itinerary this morning to help make sure Brian got out on time, and this was the same train Justin was supposed to be on. She stood still, transfixed with dread, as the reporter continued to provide more details. "According to the Harrisburg Fire Chief, there was apparently a tanker truck that became stuck for some reason on the tracks at the Kenton Street railroad crossing; it is unknown at this time whether the signal was working properly or if the crossing gates were down because of the extreme devastation and due to the fire that broke out immediately upon impact. The fire chief is not allowing reporters any closer than a mile near the scene because of the ongoing investigation and the still-working fire burning. A preliminary count from Amtrak indicates there were 204 passengers on board, in addition to 21 employees. They have not provided a list of passengers yet and have not given out any further information regarding the crash, but we _have_ been able to confirm from the fire chief that there were apparently no survivors."

Cynthia gasped in horror. _No survivors._ "Oh, my God," she repeated. "No." All thoughts of lunch were suddenly forgotten as she felt tears quickly surfacing in her eyes; she averted them from the television; it was too much to bear. _Not Justin._ She had known Brian's partner now for over six years, and had grown to respect and admire him – for his talent as well as his unique ability to turn Brian into a loving, giving person. Justin had somehow found a way for Brian to ultimately found out how who he really was, and she had witnessed their love grow deeper over the years. _What was Brian going to do now? Oh, my God._

Knowing what she had to do, but dreading it more than anything she had ever done in her life, she slowly stood up, leaving the television on, and walked out of the room toward Brian's spacious office down the hall. As she approached his office, however, she realized she would be relieved from her burden, because she recognized Justin's mother and his close friend, Daphne, slowly walking toward her boss' office, also, the younger woman walking with her arm around Justin's mother's waist. From their sagging shoulders, the tears on their faces, and their extremely sad expressions, she instantly knew they had already heard what had happened as well.

Cynthia arrived at Brian's office immediately after the other two women had entered; she overheard Brian asking Justin's mother, "Jennifer? This is an unexpected surprise. What are you doing here?" before he must have noticed something was amiss, because she heard him add, "What's wrong?" before she entered his office to observe the two women standing defeated a few feet away from Brian's desk. She watched as Jennifer pulled out a Kleenex she had stuffed into her jacket pocket and dabbed at red-rimmed eyes as she heard Daphne sniff while she attempted to hold her own tears back.

"Jennifer? What is it?" Brian eyes darted from one woman to the other as he smiled awkwardly. "You're starting to freak me out here. What's going on? Did Justin miss his train or something? It would be just like the twat to make me have to rent a fucking car and drive up there to bring him and all his shit back," he smirked. He noticed neither woman cracked a smile in return; obviously there was more to their being upset than a missed train. He frowned, now concerned by their extreme distress. He silently shook his head as he subconsciously tried to ascertain what was going on, before he noticed Jennifer slowly walk closer to his desk.

"Brian," she stammered, tentatively reaching out her hand toward him for what, she wasn't really sure. She didn't know if she was somehow trying to comfort Justin's partner or herself. Jennifer had met Daphne coming into Kinnetik at the same time, both of them having heard about the accident at approximately the same moment from Jennifer's colleagues and one of Daphne's fellow classmates, respectively. Instinctively they had both known they had to be there to tell Brian what had happened in person.

"What is it?" Brian repeated as he stood up now, suddenly feeling a cold chill pierce his heart.

"Brian," Jennifer repeated, as she began to sway as if she were going to faint. Brian rushed out from behind his desk just in time to catch her and gently help her into a nearby stuffed chair as he knelt in front of her now. "Jennifer, _what_ is going on? You're starting to fucking scare me now."

Jennifer finally gazed up sadly at the man who she felt certainly would have become her son-in-law sooner or later and reached her hand out to caress his cheek. She finally managed to softly speak, her voice barely above a whisper. Daphne placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her just a little more courage to tell the man peering intently at her with concern what had happened a short time ago that was causing all of their worlds to come crashing down on them. "There…..there was an accident, Brian," she began. "Justin…." She sobbed now and buried her face in her hands, unable to continue.

Brian's face turned white and the blood ran from his knuckles as he violently gripped the arms of the chair Jennifer was sitting in before he glanced up at Daphne, whose face, red from her crying, was an epitome of extreme grief. She hiccuped a breath before whispering, "Justin's train was in a crash," she managed to reveal to the brunet, whose mouth opened in shock. "Just outside Harrisburg," she added.

Brian held his breath and waited for a tortuous few seconds, waiting for Daphne to continue, to tell him Justin was simply hurt once again, and was at the hospital hoping for Brian to come and comfort him, to stay by his side until he was healed and ready to leave; then the two of them continue to make plans for their life together back in Pittsburgh. _What is wrong with her? Answer me, damn it!_ "Daphne?" he finally demanded. Jennifer continued to look down, unable to meet Brian's gaze that was quickly changing into one of fear and great dread.

"There, there was a fire," Daphne finally whispered, sniffling again and raising her hand to her mouth as if that might somehow change the words she didn't want to say. But she knew nothing would change what she had to tell the man that her best friend had loved so deeply and for so long. "There were no survivors," she softly revealed, her voice breaking as she, too, started to weep and she sunk into the chair next to Jennifer; Cynthia continued to stand by the doorway, not able to leave but not having the heart to interrupt the traumatic scene playing out before her.

"No." Brian shook his head and stood up, turning his back away from the two women and walking away from them to stare out the window at the bustling street outside. To everyone else, the world was continuing just as it always did; nothing was remiss and life was going on as usual. He simply refused to believe that nothing had changed for him, too. "No," he repeated more firmly. "They're wrong," he insisted. "They're _FUCKING WRONG! _It's just a mistake – he's all right. He just missed the train. You watch – he'll be calling me any minute to tell me he was running late and didn't make the goddamned train!" He ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture as he turned away from the window and walked back toward the women. "You're wrong!" he repeated, yelling this time. "There's no way Justin is……that he's….." He couldn't say it. If he said it, then he might have to start believing it. He finally repeated, softer this time, "He's not."

He stood now, helplessly, next to the two seated women who continued to cry softly, as Cynthia tentatively approached her boss and also her friend. "Brian," she began tenderly, as she gently reached out her hand to clutch his sleeve. He slowly turned to look at her, noticing that she, too, had tears in her eyes. "I was in the break room a few minutes ago," she started to explain. "It was on the news."

"No!" Brian interrupted her quickly as he roughly snatched his sleeve away from her grasp. "I don't want to fucking hear this! Do you hear me?" he said loudly. He looked behind Cynthia's shoulder as he saw Michael now walking toward him; when he saw the same, grief-stricken look mirrored on his best friend's face as well, the reality finally hit him. This was really happening; it wasn't a dream. No, that wasn't exactly true – it WAS a dream – it was a fucking _nightmare_. A nightmare he was never going to wake up from. "No," he cried again, only this time it wasn't said in denial; it was said in deep despair and pain as he collapsed into Mikey's waiting arms.


	3. Chapter 3: Heartbreak and Revelation

_6:00 p.m. Same Day – Debbie's House _

The first thing Carl noticed when he returned to the house he shared with his girlfriend, Debbie, was the eerie quiet. What would normally be a rowdy, boisterous, and loud place of residence had suddenly turned into a home where you could hear the proverbial pin drop. Despite there being over a dozen people presently inside, the only sounds he could make out when he opened the door and entered where an occasional clink of a coffee mug or a soft whisper among the small groups sitting around the living room and kitchen. Carl sighed and took a deep breath as he looked over at Debbie, the woman who had opened her home and her heart to Justin so many years ago and had loved him like a son. Debbie had always been the mother hen for all the boys on Liberty Avenue, but she had had a special place in her heart for the blond artist with the million-dollar smile who had first showed up looking so lost but also so eager as a naïve teenager star struck and so in love with the elusive Brian Kinney, the man who had eventually returned Justin's feelings a thousand times over. The last thing Carl wanted to do, then, was break the heart of the woman he loved, but he had no choice.

As he came in, however, everyone looked at him expectantly, hopefully. Hopeful that the information they had been seeing rehashed over and over and over again on all the national news channels was somehow wrong about the crash. Hopeful that everything had just been a big mistake. As they noticed the detective's stern but sympathetic face, however, they knew what he was going to say before the words were uttered.

Looking over at Debbie, who he could tell was still desperately holding out hope that he would tell them there had been a terrible mistake made, he simply shook his head at her and watched as her face fell. "I just got off the phone with Bill Cabot. He's an old friend of mine from my police academy days, and works for the Harrisburg P.D. He basically verified everything that's been said on the news reports. The train hit a stalled tanker truck head-on on the tracks and both the truck and the train burst into flames. Most of the passengers died on impact." He hesitated before continuing softly, "Those that didn't were killed by burns or smoke inhalation." He shook his head sadly as he heard someone in the room gasp at the image of what must have happened on that train. He didn't have to be a mind reader to know what everyone in that room was thinking at that moment: _Please let Justin be one of the passengers who died on impact._

Ben spoke up softly. "What about identification?" he asked.

Carl looked around the room first to make sure that neither Jennifer nor Brian was there before answering him quietly. "Bill told me that identification for most of the bodies will be next to impossible because of the resulting fire. Most of them were so badly burned beyond recognition that even advanced forensics procedures won't be able to identify them."

"Oh, my God," Debbie cried softly, bending her head down while she clutched a rosary in her lap. She thought she couldn't have experienced any worse pain then on the day her brother Vic had died; she was wrong. The pain in her heart at the moment was just like a large knife had been imbedded in it. As Carl walked up to her in an attempt to offer her some comfort somehow, she smiled up at him slightly through her tears and stood up to give him a hug. After several seconds, she pulled back to say, "Thank you, Honey. At least we know for sure now." She took a deep breath as she finally broke loose from him and announced softly, "I think I'll go make myself some more tea. Does anyone else want some?" As the others shook their heads no, she stiffly walked back toward the stove to pour herself another cup. It didn't really make anything easier – nothing ever would – but at least it was something to keep her hands busy.

Ben looked up as he noticed Michael coming down the steps. He stood up to greet his husband, asking, "How is he?"

Michael shook his head sadly before he allowed Ben to hold him in a loving embrace. "I gave him some valium and he finally fell asleep, but I'm sure he won't be that way for long. I just came downstairs to grab a cup of coffee before I go back up and sit with him again. He's a mess, Ben" Michael stated simply. "I think he's still in part denial and part shock. He finally is starting to realize Justin's dead but he just can't allow himself to believe it. Hell, NO ONE can believe it. I can't believe I'M saying it, either. It's just a shock, you know? I was just talking to him the other day about the next issue of _Rage._ We were planning on getting together tomorrow once he and Brian had been reunited. We were going to have dinner with them together tomorrow night, Ben! Both he and Brian seemed so happy that Justin was coming back home, and now this!" Ben rubbed soothing hands on Michael's back before the two pulled back to look at each other. "I don't know what's going to happen now," Michael said quietly. "Justin managed to change him. Managed to get him to actually fucking _express_ his feelings, to let them know he cared about everybody, his family, his friends. And now _this_. I don't know," he just repeated, shaking his head. It was all too much to comprehend. Ben reached down and gave him a short kiss and a brief, encouraging smile before Michael broke from his embrace. "I'd better hurry up - I don't want him alone when he wakes up." Ben nodded his understanding before Michael turned to hurry into the kitchen.

As the front door opened again, everyone in the living room looked up to see Emmett arriving. From the look on his face, he had obviously heard the news as well. He simply asked to no one in particular, "Is it true?" He searched the other's faces with a sense of dread; he really didn't have to wait for the answer – all he had to do was look at his friends to know. "Oh, my poor baby. Oh, God," he said, before he slumped into the nearest chair and buried his head in his hands and cried.

* * *

Michael's old room was dark since he had drawn the shades earlier to try and encourage Brian to get some sleep. He had tried to comfort his friend as he had lay spooned against him, just like he had done so often in the past when they were growing up and Brian's father had been his normal abusive, crappy self and the brunet had sought refuge at Debbie's house to escape the verbal abuse and physical pain. Even when his father had continued to torment him as an adult, Michael has been able to comfort his friend and help to quell Brian's feelings of worthlessness and dejection. This time, however, he knew no amount of ordinary comfort would take away the absolute despair his friend was beginning to feel, now that the reality of what had happened today was beginning to sink in. It was almost scary – Brian's normal method of handling difficulty was to throw every kind of drug he could find into his system and get so drunk he couldn't _feel_ any of the pain until it finally subsided enough that he could move on. That was how he had handled it when Justin had gone off with the violinist. This time, though, he hadn't had a drop of Beam or a whiff of any drugs, other than the two Valium Michael had insisted he take earlier. As Michael returned to his old room, he wasn't surprised to notice that Brian was indeed awake. He was still lying on his side, facing the door. The light from the hallway shone briefly on his friend's tear-stained face before Michael closed the door, enveloping the two of them once again in the silence and darkness.

"Hey," Michael said softly, as he placed his mug of coffee on the nightstand and sat down on the side of the bed. He really didn't expect Brian to answer him; the man hadn't said a word since leaving Kinnetik earlier. It was almost as if Brian was in almost a catatonic state, stunned into silence by the unbelievable tragedy that had occurred earlier today.

Michael wished desperately that he could do something, or say something, that would help take his friend's pain away. But deep down he knew there was nothing that would help. The only thing that would help was if somehow this day could never have happened. That everyone would wake up tomorrow and find out today had just been a terrible, bad dream. Sighing softly, he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned down to tenderly brush the other man's hair away from his eyes and planted a small kiss on his forehead as if he were soothing a little child. The only response from Brian was a small sniffle as Michael lay down to face his friend and wrapped a hand around the brunet's waist. As he rubbed small, soothing circles across the other man's back, he silently tried to think of some way to alleviate his friend's pain. Unfortunately, the only remedy was the one person that was hopelessly out of their reach and gone forever.

* * *

_Next Morning – 7:00 a.m._

The young man had no idea how long he had been lying there on the grassy bank, nor how he had even gotten there. The first hint of consciousness registered on his brain as he became aware of a horrible pounding in his head. He moaned in discomfort, as he slowly opened his eyes and noticed he was lying on his back; his shirt and jeans soaked from the early morning dew. He squinted as the sun's rays radiated from the east; it was early dawn, so he could at least turn his head to check out his immediate surroundings. He noticed he was lying partially sideways down an embankment, his head slightly higher than the rest of his body. To one side of him was a grove of thick trees, but the curvy terrain prevented him from seeing what was on the other side of the gently-sloping hill.

He lay there for several minutes, searching his mind to try and figure out where he was, even _WHO_ he was, before he finally realized with horror: _he DIDN'T know._ No matter how many times he thought about his situation, he couldn't recall anything; it was as if he had just been born a few minutes ago. The only fact he knew with certainly at that moment was that his head felt like a jackhammer had exploded inside. Had he been the victim of an assault? He felt inside both of his pants pockets and came up empty – no money, no identification, nothing – so perhaps that explains what had happened. He just had no way of knowing.

He DID know, however, that lying there wasn't going to improve his situation; quite the opposite, if he didn't somehow find the strength to try and get up, his situation could very well deteriorate rapidly.

His head still pounding, he finally turned on his side and used his right hand to slowly pull his body up to a sitting position. "Oh," was the first word he uttered aloud, as the blood seemed to drain from his face down his body and he swayed a little when a wave of dizziness hit him. He held himself still for several seconds until the feeling subsided, before he slowly kneeled and pushed himself to stand upright.

As he finally was able to stand at the top of the embankment, it provided him with the opportunity to take better stock of his surroundings. The thick stand of trees he had initially seen would not allow him to see anything beyond the heavy canopy of leaves; as he turned to look at the other side, however, he noticed a railroad track with a paved road running parallel to it. Unfortunately, from his vantage point, he did not see any identifiable road signs or directional markers to indicate where he was.

Sighing in distress and frustration, he carefully walked down the small hill toward the railroad track and the adjoining two-lane highway. He decided if he had any anticipation at all of obtaining help for his current predicament, his best chance was to stay near a roadway and hope that someone would stop to assist him. He had no idea how long he had lain in the grass unconscious, but now that he was awake, he realized how terribly thirsty he was; his sore body shivered as he felt a chill from the wet clothes he was wearing.

It seemed like an eternity before he was finally able to reach the road. He looked both ways, waging a war within himself as to which direction to go, before he finally chose to follow the road to his left; where it was taking him at that moment, or even where he _was_, was yet to be determined. He only knew he had to move before he could find the help he so desperately needed. Squaring his shoulders in determination before taking a sharp, ragged breath, he placed one foot in front of the other, ever so slowly, as he walked alongside the shoulder of the highway, against the warming sun. The dizziness he had felt earlier was returning with each painful step, however, along with the beginnings of nausea.

He managed to walk about 10 shaky steps before the dizziness overwhelmed him and he began to fall.


	4. Chapter 4: Questions Unanswered

_Later the Same Day – Harrisburg General Hospital_

Justin groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. His head still throbbed a little, but the pain seemed to have thankfully lessened somewhat. "You're awake," he heard a female voice say, as his eyes began to focus on his surroundings. He noticed first the white walls and then the small table next to the bed he was lying in; as he turned his head, he observed a person with a stethoscope around her neck – a nurse, apparently. He was in a hospital? How did he get here? And just _where_ was he?

The nurse, a middle-aged, brown-haired female wearing glasses, stared back at him and smiled. "How are you feeling?" she asked him, as she efficiently reached out to check his pulse. "I need to check your temperature, also," she requested, as she stuck a thermometer in his mouth for a few seconds to register his current reading. Shaking her head satisfactorily, she replied, "No fever, and your pulse has returned to normal. The name's Michelle, by the way," she informed him.

"Where am I?" He asked her.

"You're in Harrisburg General Hospital," she advised him, as she briefly checked his latest blood pressure reading on the monitor beside his bed. "We've been waiting for you to wake up since you were brought in."

"Brought in?" he asked her, puzzled. The last thing he could recall was falling to the ground beside the road he had been walking on earlier…..today? He wasn't even sure.

"Yes," the nurse verified. "Apparently a couple driving by at the time you fell on Rt. 55 stopped and helped bring you here to the hospital."

"When was that?" he asked, curious.

Michelle quickly glanced at her watch as she stated, "About four hours ago. In fact, the doctor should be in shortly to check on you again. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you're awake. In the meantime, I'd like to get some information from you. We can start with your name." She looked down at her clipboard as she waited for the young man's reply. When it wasn't immediately forthcoming, however, she looked up to see him with a pained expression on his pale face. "What is it?" she asked him. "Are you in pain?"

"No, it's not that," he answered. "I mean – my head is still throbbing some – but that's not it." She noticed him appearing embarrassed as he continued. "I……I don't _know_ who I am," he finally said, rather helplessly.

She frowned. "You don't _know?_"

Justin shook his head as his eyes unexpectedly filled with tears of frustration. "No," he said softly. "The first thing I remember is waking up early this morning on some hill – I don't even know where _that_ was," he admitted. "You mentioned Route 55?" At her nod of affirmation, he replied, "I don't know where that _is_," he said. I don't know my name, I don't know where I am, I don't know _anything!_" he cried.

"It's okay," she said hurriedly, trying to soothe the tormented young man. "It may just be a temporary situation. You DID mention your head was hurting, and when you were brought in, there was a pretty large lump on the side of your head in the front. You may have just suffered some type of traumatic blow to the head that has affected your memory. Hopefully it will return soon."

"But maybe it _won't_!" Justin said painfully. "How can you know?" His blue eyes closed in weariness, as a few tears escaped unbidden down his cheeks.

Michelle looked at him directly before replying truthfully, "We can't know, I'm afraid. We just have to run as many diagnostic tests as possible to try and find out. There's still a lot to the brain that science and medicine don't know. It's best that the doctor discuss that with you, though. Now that you're awake, we can run some more extensive tests to hopefully get to the bottom of your memory loss." She impulsively reached down and briefly grasped his shoulder before letting it go. "Don't worry about something you may not need to worry about," she encouraged him philosophically. She smiled again at him. "Maybe in the meantime, I'll just take the liberty of naming you myself. I always did hate the name _John Doe_." She was finally rewarded with a small smile from her patient.

"And just who do I look like to you?" he asked softly.

She studied him carefully. The blond hair, blue eyes and pale skin were very captivating. "Well, let's see now," she said thoughtfully, as the young man looked at her curiously. He reminded her of a friend of her son's who had similar features. After several seconds, she decided, "You look like a Jacob to me. Jacob……Martin."

He raised his eyebrows curiously. "I do, do I?" he said, a little amused now, despite his predicament.

"Yes," she said firmly. "Definitely. That's what I'm going to call you for the time being. Much better than John Doe. You most certainly don't look like that name at all. Too plain. Is that all right with you?" she asked tentatively.

Justin considered it for a few minutes. At least he could be called _something_ until he could hopefully find out who he really was. It was certainly better than the alternative of "hey, you." He looked up at her and finally agreed, "Yeah, it's okay. Better to be called by _something_. But I don't plan on getting used to it – I want my _own_ name back – and my own _memories_," he replied defiantly.

Michelle nodded. "I certainly understand. And that's good. Motivation is an important part of anyone's recovery. You just keep thinking that way….._Jacob_," she urged him softly, smiling.

Justin smiled at her again, grateful for her encouragement as well as her honesty. "When did you say the doctor would be in? I have a lot of questions for him."

Michelle replied, "Any time now. He's due to make rounds right now. His name, by the way, is Dr. Bradley," she advised. She looked quickly at her watch. "If you don't need anything for the moment, I really need to go check on my other patients," she informed him, somewhat regretfully. The young man's plight, awkwardness, and distress had touched her deeply; this lost soul continued to remind her of her son's friend, who appeared to be about the same age as "Jacob." "I'll be back a little later to check on you," she assured him, nodding, as he turned and walked out of his room, praying that the doctor would be able to help him find out who he really was.

* * *

_Pittsburgh – Same Day – Late Morning_

"How is he?" Deb asked her son as he came back down to the living room just before noon.

"He's been better," she heard a shaky voice reply from the top of the steps. Brian slowly walked down behind Michael, his eyes red-rimmed and his hair tousled. Debbie thought the man had never looked more haggard in all the time she had known him. The biggest surprise was that for once, though, he wasn't trying to hide his feelings behind a show of bravado. As he slowly shuffled down to face her, her eyes filled with tears. Tears because of what all of them had lost, but most of all tears for what this man was going to go through. The deep pain was so obvious on his grief-stricken face. The eyes, which normally shone with such confidence and life, were listless and dull. No wonder, Debbie thought, because his life had just been taken away from him. She reached up to give him a fierce hug; after a few seconds, she felt him return the embrace, wrapping his long arms around her waist. Her head remained on his chest for a while before she felt him pull back slightly with a sigh.

As she turned to look up at the hazel eyes she knew so well, she was again struck by the difference in them; the spark had simply disappeared. He tried to smile at her reassuringly, but he couldn't quite accomplish it; as he pursed his lips tightly together, it looked more like an attempt to keep from crying.

"Oh, Honey," she murmured to him. "For once, I really don't know what to say. That's something different, isn't it?" she smirked self-deprecatingly. Turning more serious, she added, "There's really nothing that _can_ be said to take your pain away. To take _any_ of our pain away. We all loved him too, you know."

Brian bit his lip, trying hard to remain stoic. "I know," he whispered at last. "I……I just can't believe it, Deb. To have come so far – to be so close, to be able to plan a future together. Then to have it all fucking taken away. I just can't believe it," he repeated. "I don't _want_ to believe it." He shook his head in incredulity. To Debbie, he appeared to be so totally lost. So unsure of what to do next. So unlike the Brian she had always known; to her that just proved how much Justin had changed him.

She grasped both of his arms firmly. "You know what you do? What we ALL need to do. You take one fucking step at a time. One hour at a time. Hell, one _minute_ at a time, if that's what it takes. Then you put another step in front of you. And another one. And you fight like hell to go on. That's what Sunshine would want." She reached up to give him a quick kiss on his cheek; as she pulled back to gaze at him, she brushed back some errant hair from his forehead before gently wiping a tear away that had escaped from his eye.

Brian's hands clenched into fists in frustration. "I'm not sure I know how to do that," he finally whispered softly. "I can't just forget him, forget everything like it just fucking didn't happen."

"Of course not," Debbie answered firmly. "You never forget what Justin taught you, or what YOU taught him, or what you meant to each other. You were too important to him, and he loved you too much to see you give up. It's going to take time. I know that's a fucking cliché, but it's true. It WILL get better over time. When Vic died, I didn't think I could stand to see anything that reminded me of him. But over time, I learned to not only think about my memories with him, but actually _smile_ when I thought about him and the things we did. Those were good memories, and they will be for you, too….one day, Honey," she assured him sympathetically. Only thing was, as much pain as she was in at the moment, she could only guess how much Brian was in. It may get better over time, but something told her it was going to be a very _long_ time before Brian could think about Justin without their being pain and grief involved.

Brian looked at her sadly and nodded. "I hope you're right, Deb, because right now I feel like a fucking butcher knife is stuck in my chest. What I wouldn't give for some of Anita's finest shit right now."

"No," Michael interjected as he approached him from the kitchen after snatching a beer from the refrigerator. "That wouldn't solve anything, Brian, and you know it. It might dull the pain for a night, but nothing would be changed in the morning. Everything would still be the same," Michael said, then added softly, "Justin would still be gone."

Brian swallowed the large lump in his throat. He knew Michael and Deb were both right. How he wished he could take some E and wake up in the morning to find out all of this had been a huge mistake, or a fucking bad dream. But he knew it wasn't. He would know, too, in the morning when he reached across his bed for the slender, pale, warm body that always snuggled against his side after they made love, and find his empty, cold bed instead. He shivered at the thought of sleeping in his bed at the loft alone.

"Michael?" he asked tentatively.

"What?" Michael asked him softly.

"Could I…..would you mind if I slept over at your house tonight? That is, if you have room."

Michael smiled sadly. "Of course you can. Anytime. As long as you want. I'll go back with you to the loft so you can get some clothes, okay?"

Brian smiled gratefully; Michael really was a good friend to him. And he was definitely going to need him and all of his friends in the coming days. If not weeks, or probably more like months. He wasn't sure if he would ever get over the loss of his partner, the love of his life, quite possibly the _only_ love of his life. How do you ever get over your soul mate?

"Come on. Let's go. I'll drive you over," Michael suggested, as he gently grasped Brian's arm and tenderly led him over to the door. As the two men walked out, Ben approached Deb. "He's really lost, isn't he?" he observed to her.

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and no matter _what_ bullshit I just gave him, I'm not sure if he's ever going to get over this. If he does, it may take him a fucking lifetime. What we need is a miracle – and I'm afraid God is fresh out of those at the moment." She gave Ben a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before slowly turning toward the kitchen to pour her some more tea.


	5. Chapter 5: Lost Love, New Starts

_Harrisburg General Hospital – Early Afternoon_

Justin lifted his head as he heard a quick knock on his door; looking toward the sound, he noticed a slightly older man entering the room. He was an attractive brunet with hazel-colored eyes and a lean, toned frame. The other man smiled slightly at him as he reached out a tanned arm to shake Justin's hand; Justin noticed that the other man's hand was surprisingly soft but firm. "I'm Dr. Bradley," he advised fluidly, as he sat down next to the bed on one of the visitor's chairs. "I understand Michelle has taken it upon herself to name you," he added with amusement.

Justin found himself unexpectedly blushing at the other man's pointed stare. He took a few seconds to calm himself before verifying, "Yeah – she thinks I look like a _Jacob Martin_, whatever that means." He found himself smiling back at the other man, despite his predicament. For some reason, this stranger resonated with him somehow and gave him a puzzling sense of déjà vu. Registerng that in the back of his relatively empty mind (at least when it came to his memory), he tried to concentrate on what the doctor was saying.

"I'm actually a resident here," Dr. Bradley explained. "I'm assigned to do rounds for patients from the emergency room. I have ordered a CAT scan and MRI of your brain to try and hopefully pinpoint the cause of your memory loss. I have also asked one of our neurosurgeons, a Dr. Michaels, to consult with me on the results of your tests. With your permission, I will go ahead and schedule the two tests for later today." Dr. Bradley peered at the patient with interest; not only because of the relative rarity of his medical condition, but also if he was honest with himself, because he was unexpectedly attracted to the blond-haired, blue-eyed man staring back at him intently listening to his every word.

He deliberately pushed his personal feelings aside and tried to concentrate on his conversation with his _patient_, he reminded himself. "If you're okay with that strategy, Mr. Martin, I will need your signature on these consent forms." He reached out his clipboard to steady it for the other man to sign; as their hands brushed against each other, the doctor felt a slight jolt of electricity pass between them. Clearing his throat as his patient signed the form under his pseudo name, he nodded his head slightly in satisfaction. "Good," he replied, as he stood up to make initial preparations for the tests. "As soon as I get the results, I'll come back up to discuss them with you. Mr. Martin," he acknowledged, nodding, as he turned and walked briskly out of the room. _What the hell is wrong with me?_, he wondered. He never had that reaction to a patient before. He shook his head in an apparent attempt to erase the brief surge of electricity he had felt earlier when they had accidentally touched before he sought out Michelle to instruct her to schedule his patient for his tests.

* * *

_Pittsburgh – Early Afternoon _

Brian stood tentatively at the door to Jennifer's condo before he drew a deep breath and let it out. Knocking, he waited anxiously for her to open the door. After several seconds, he heard a lock being slid back before the door opened; Jennifer's red-rimmed eyes mirrored Brian's own as the two wordlessly embraced at the entranceway for several seconds before Brian sighed and broke their hold. Jennifer reached up both of her slender hands, so like Justin's, to tenderly cradle Brian's cheeks. She gently used her thumbs to wipe away tears that had abruptly freed themselves from his eyes; once he had locked eyes with his lover's mother, he was now helpless to prevent them from falling.

"Come in, Brian," she softly whispered with a slight smile of affection. She gently grasped his hand and pulled him slowly into the living room. "Sit down…….please," she beseeched him, her cultured manners instinctively taking over, despite her grief. He looked around tentatively before accepting a seat at the far end of the couch near the stuffed chair Jennifer had chosen to sit on.

They sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence for several seconds, both unsure what to say or do, before Jennifer finally ventured to speak, barely above a whisper. "Molly's gone to stay with my parents for a while," she volunteered in answer to Brian's unspoken question about how quiet it seemed in the condo. Brian merely nodded his head in understanding, but continued to remain silent. "I think it's for the best," she finally added. "She's pretty broken up over……this," was all she could say. She hung her head in her hands, elbows on her knees, as she looked down at the floor to try and compose herself. Since hearing about Justin yesterday, she had cried what had to be a million tears over his death; even so, she still felt numb when she tried to accept the reality of the situation; the reality that she would never see her fun-loving, effervescent son again. Never see his beaming smile or see his face light up when he had finished a painting that had no doubt once again been inspired by the man sitting a few feet away from her. The man who was certainly in as much, if not _more_ pain, than she was at the moment. The man who had changed her son irrevocably forever, and who had been changed by her son as well – for the better. Now, she didn't know _what_ would happen to either one of them without him as their anchor.

"Would you like some coffee or something to eat, Brian?" she asked him softly. "I have a feeling you haven't eaten anything since yesterday." Brian simply shook his head no; the last thing on his mind right now was food, even though his stomach had been complaining of an empty feeling since the awful news had been reported yesterday; he just wasn't sure if the empty feeling was due to lack of food or the loss of his partner. In either case, he certainly couldn't bring himself to eat at the moment.

"How are you doing?" Brian finally asked her gently; he wasn't really sure why he had felt a need to come here; perhaps it was due to some irrational hope that he could somehow sense Justin's presence in this place, even though his partner hadn't ever lived here after his parents had split up and he had moved in with him at the loft instead. Perhaps it was more like he needed to be with someone who had loved Justin as much as HE had. Only someone like that would truly understand the depth of his despair right now, and the piercing, stabbing pain he was constantly feeling that tortured his every waking thought and restless dream.

She grimaced slightly. "Probably about the same as you," she observed candidly, as she scanned his haggard, drawn face and bloodshot, listless eyes that would normally be full of fire and spark. "I haven't slept a wink since yesterday," she admitted tearfully. "Every time I close my eyes I _see_ him. I _hear_ him. His laugh. His smile. His voice." She sniffled as she reached over to pull out what must have been the hundredth tissue out of a nearly empty Kleenex box. Dabbing her eyes slightly, she looked over at Brian's defeated posture and added pointedly, "I imagine you've been doing the same."

Brian swallowed the lump in his throat; it had constricted severely as Jennifer had mentioned her son's smile, voice, and laugh; these were all things Brian was desperately missing as well, along with the feel and smell of her son. His touches and kisses. His passion for love and for life in general. All those things that were distinctly and uniquely Justin. All those things he would never have, and would miss for the rest of his life. He took a ragged breath and sighed. What had Debbie said earlier? Take one step and put one foot out in front of the other. Go on – in tribute of _him_. What a fucking tribute, he joked inwardly as he shook his head dejectedly.

He was so intent on thinking about Justin that it startled him somewhat when he heard Jennifer speak softly again. "I've been thinking….." she tentatively began. She glanced over a little hesitantly at Brian before continuing. "I think it would be fitting if we had some type of memorial service for him." She just couldn't bring herself to say Justin's name out loud; it was as if not saying it would somehow still make it all a bad dream that he wasn't actually gone, even though she knew logically that he _was._ It was still just too painful to acknowledge it out loud. "What do you think of that?" she asked her son's partner, keenly interested in his opinion. Obviously there would be no funeral without a body; but the least they could do was conduct some sort of celebration of his life.

Brian bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling. He knew rationally that it made sense to hold a memorial service of some type for Justin; but his heart still refused to accept that he was actually gone. How could he sit through a memorial service, then? How could he sit there while Justin's family and friends all stood up, one by one, to point out his partner's good qualities and say how much they'll miss him? It was all too much, too soon. There was no way he could sit through that, no way that he could find himself left with a blown-up, enlarged picture of the man he loved on an fucking easel next to a preacher's pulpit, no way that he could mourn in public for what he would never have again. Agitated for some inexplicable reason, he abruptly stood up as Jennifer gazed up at him, puzzled. "Brian?" she simply said, as she reached out to clasp his hand. After a couple of seconds, Brian returned her grasp.

"You do what you need to do, Jennifer," he responded softly. "I respect your wishes. But I just can't sit through that. I just can't," he repeated, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "I……I think I'd better go now," he added, as he gently separated his hand from hers. "If you need anything, anything at all, please let me know. You have my cell number," he advised. "Any time….you call me, okay?"

She smiled slightly in affection for this man who had captured her son's heart so deeply. She knew how much he was hurting as well. She also understood that Brian had to mourn in his own way, just as she had to mourn differently. Nodding, she simply replied, "Thanks. You do the same." She stood up briefly to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "I worry about you…….You know, I think of you as my son-in-law. It never had to be written down on a piece of paper," she solemnly stated, echoing a similar statement her son had once made to him, just before he left for New York.

He curled his lips under to try and prevent more tears from flowing at her unexpected show of compassion in spite of her own deep pain. He merely nodded, too afraid to try and verbally voice his gratitude, before he slowly turned and walked toward the door to leave. As he opened the door, he turned around for one more brief look at her before he slowly closed it and walked back to Michael waiting for him in his 'Vette. _One foot in front of the other…..one step at a time._ Sighing, he straightened his shoulders slightly before entering the passenger side of the car.

* * *

Justin waited somewhat impatiently in the patient waiting room for his name to be called for the CAT scan and MRI tests. The room was adjacent to what appeared to be a children's playroom for the younger patients housed at the children's ward of the hospital; as he peered through the windows of the swinging double doors, he could see several children engaged in either playing games or drawing and coloring pictures.

He restlessly swung his crossed leg on the chair as he sat back down briefly; the receptionist had informed him that it would probably be 30 minutes or more before he would be the next one summoned to the back testing rooms; the vibrator in his hand would indicate when he was to return to the registration desk.

After a few minutes of listlessly leafing through a nondescript magazine, he finally decided to stand up and stretch. He found himself drawn toward the double doors as he heard the distinctive sounds of children playing together. He looked again through the small panes of the door's windows before he slowly swung them open and walked inside. At least this was an area he hadn't seen yet. He ambled around the room, observing children in various activities to hopefully help keep their minds off the actual reason why they were there, either due to sickness or some more serious illness.

He noticed a small, blonde, curly-haired little girl who appeared to be about 6 years of age sitting rather dejectedly at a small table and chairs. He cautiously crept toward her and smiled back at the curious stare he received from the green eyes. "Hello," he greeted her. "Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?" he asked.

She looked him over for a few seconds and apparently decided he seemed harmless enough. "Okay," she eventually answered him. Justin smiled again and sat down rather awkwardly in the small, hard plastic chair that was typically reserved for primary school rooms. He glanced down at the blank piece of paper directly in front of the little girl and the pencil she was holding in her rather chubby hand. "You seem sad," he observed. "Is something wrong?" he asked her gently.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she answered sadly, "I wanted to draw a sun and a house to put my mommy and daddy in, but I don't know how."

Justin worked hard to prevent the smile from creeping onto his face; to this little girl, this was a serious calamity. "Maybe I can help. Can I try and draw it for you?" he offered her.

The little girl's face lit up. "Would you? I can draw my mommy and daddy if you do the other stuff. Can you make the sun with a happy face on it?" she implored.

Justin didn't understand, but he somehow knew he could draw exactly what she needed. "Sure I can," he confidently informed her. "It will be the best-looking sun you've ever seen. And we'll draw a really fancy house for your mommy and daddy, okay?"

"Yeah!" the little girl agreed. She handed him the pencil as she looked at him pointedly. "What's your _name_?" she asked him. "Are you sick, too, like me?" she wondered.

Justin felt a slight twinge of awkwardness; he wished desperately he knew exactly what his name was. But for now, Michelle's chosen moniker for him would have to do, he supposed. Making up his mind, he smiled at the girl as he told her, "My name's Jacob. What's yours?"

"Kayla," she answered him in a grown-up tone. "I'm six. I'm getting my _toesils_ out tomorrow. Right here," she said, pointing to her throat, as Justin stifled a laugh. "My mommy and daddy are talking to my doctor. They said they'd be right back and for me to wait here. Can you draw my picture for them before they get back?" she beseeched him with just the hint of a little pout beginning.

Trying to stem another tide of waterworks, Justin assured him, "I'll start on it right now," before placing the sharpened pencil against the paper and beginning to draw a Tudor-style mansion in the center of the paper with sure, skilled strokes. Kayla watched, entranced, as a big, elegant house began to take form complete with pillars on the front porch and numerous, pointed spires atop. He adeptly shaded the house as it began to take shape, adding in several trees and bushes outside for good measure, along with a sloping, curved drive.

"Wow, that's pretty!" Kayla exclaimed as he clapped her hands in delight. Her previous tears had long been replaced with joy as the green eyes shone. "Now draw the sun, Jacob," she requested, as Justin smiled at her tenderly. The little girl climbed down from her chair to perch herself suddenly in Justin's lap as she intently continued to watch him draw.

As Justin moved toward the upper right corner to draw Kayla's sun, he did not notice Dr. Bradley interestedly watching their interaction from the far corner of the room. He couldn't help observing Jacob's easy rapport with the little girl, as well as his apparent confidence when it came to drawing. He quietly crept toward the pair from the rear to peek over his patient's shoulder to note what he had drawn; he was stunned by the obvious creative talent Jacob had. _This man has to be an artist_, he decided. _He is too talented at it not to make a living from it_. He filed this fascinating tidbit of information away in the back of his mind as a possible help in determining just who this man was before he looked at his watch and noted he was due to make his rounds on the 2nd floor. He walked quietly away, unnoticed by the pair still absorbed in their project together.

Justin finished up the cheery, smiling sun for Kayla just before he felt his vibrator going off to advise him it was time for his tests to begin. He tenderly placed Kayla down to stand on the floor as he handed her the completed picture. Somewhat regretfully he told her, "I have to go now. It's time for them to give me some tests." He smiled at her as he said, "It was very nice meeting you Kayla. I hope they take good care of your _toesils_ tomorrow." He was surprised a little when his new friend reached up her hands, indicating she wanted him to lean down, before she bestowed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Jacob," she said somewhat shyly. "I _love_ my picture you drew. My mommy and daddy will be _so_ happy," she replied proudly. Her parents must have arrived, for Kayla quickly took off running toward the swinging doors and ran headfirst into the outstretched arms of an older version of her, complete with the same, curly blonde hair and green eyes.

Justin smiled as he walked by her, winking at her slightly before turning toward the registration station to begin his tests. He mentally crossed his fingers that these tests would be the starting point in his discovery of his true identity and restoration of his lost memories.


	6. Chapter 6: New Memories Forged

_**A/N: Thanks to all of you who are reading this and especially those providing feedback - it is greatly appreciated. I am not a medical professional, so please forgive any liberties I've taken with brain injuries for this story. Finally, just a reminder - this story will involve Justin with another character temporarily - you've been warned - LOL! But all you B/J shippers - hang in there. You will be rewarded eventually - hint, hint.....**_

_

* * *

__Harrisburg General Hospital – Early Evening_

Justin slept fitfully on his hospital bed, his evening meal sitting untouched nearby. Since coming back from his CAT scan and MRI tests, he had found himself extremely tired. Having to lie utterly still for 45 minutes for each test was strangely exhausting. And since landing in the hospital earlier today, he hadn't really had much of an opportunity to actually sleep. Naturally, now that he finally _had_ some much-needed time for it, his mind was racing so much he couldn't really sleep well. Despite still having no idea who he was or where he had even come from, his mind kept replaying an image of a dark-haired, handsome man over and over again. Somehow, he instinctively realized that he knew this man who was appearing so vividly in his dreams – _intimately_. Who he was, though, and WHERE he was remained a mystery. Just as they were about to kiss, he woke up, disappointed – sighing in frustration, he slowly opened his eyes to see that Dr. Bradley had returned to his room.

"Sorry – didn't mean to startle you," the other man said softly, smiling. He was again sitting next to his patient's bed in the same chair as before.

Justin shook his head. "You didn't," he assured him. "I was just having this weird dream and it woke me up, I guess."

The doctor looked at him with interest. "What sort of dream?" Perhaps he could glean some information about his patient's identity through what he had dreamt about.

"It looked like I was at someone's apartment, and there was this man……" He looked over at Dr. Bradley somewhat embarrassed. What if the man was homophobic? Well, Justin thought, that's HIS problem. "I think from what I dreamed about that he and I were in a _relationship._" Justin noted that the doctor didn't seem to find this unusual or distasteful; he merely gazed at him intently as if waiting for him to continue.

"Oh?" was all Dr. Bradley said. "How could you tell?" He forced his voice to sound impassive, but he found himself oddly upset that Jacob apparently was involved with another man prior to his accident. _Why should that bother him?_ It certainly shouldn't have _surprised_ him – you'd have to be blind not to notice how attractive this man was.

Justin averted his eyes as he awkwardly explained, "In my dream…..we were sitting on a couch…….and we were about to kiss." He finally looked over shyly at the doctor. "That's when I woke up," he explained.

"But a good dream?" the doctor pressed, trying hard to sound nonchalant.

Justin smiled a little, trying to capture the feeling his dream had engendered. "Yeah, I suppose." He frowned slightly, and clenched his fists unknowingly, though, as he added, "It's just so damn frustrating. Just when I think that maybe I might be having some kind of breakthrough with my memory, I wake up. I still don't know who I am or who the other man was, either."

The doctor looked at him sympathetically. "Give it some time, Jacob. You were just brought in this morning, you know," he pointed out.

Justin twisted his face, a pout appearing on his lips. "I have a feeling that _patience_ wasn't a virtue of mine, even when I had my memory, because I want to know who I am NOW."

The doctor grinned. _This man is adorable. _"Actually, you're probably right, because research has told us that despite someone losing their memory, their core characteristics remain the same. So if you're impatient now, chances are good you were impatient then, too." His patient smiled back at him then, his blue eyes peering at the doctor intently. Again, the resident found his insides inexplicably doing flip flops as the young man continued to listen intently to his comments.

He had to actually look away briefly to collect his thoughts before he could continue. "I DO have some news for you. About your tests this afternoon."

"What? Tell me," Justin demanded urgently.

Dr. Bradley smiled. "You ARE impatient, aren't you?" he lightly teased him. He knew this was a very serious issue, however, so his expression quickly became solemn. "I consulted with the hospital chief neurosurgeon, Dr. Benjamin. He's been working with traumatic brain injuries for over 20 years now, so I respect his opinion explicitly." The young doctor paused briefly before continuing. "He looked at both the CAT scan and MRI results and has determined that you sustained a contusion to the cerebrum part of your brain, which is the area that controls both your long- and short-term memory. The contusion is most likely the reason why you have been experiencing headache, dizziness, and lightheadedness at times. He also noted some fairly significant swelling in the front part of the cerebrum."

The doctor paused to look at Justin's forehead; he couldn't however, see what his colleague had told him about earlier because of the blond's hair hanging down covering the area in question.

"What?" Justin asked, concerned. He noticed the other man's reluctance to continue. "Tell me," he urged him.

The doctor hesitated briefly before he leaned in toward the blond. "My colleague noticed on the results that you had apparently experienced a prior injury to the same part of your head. May I?" he asked, tentatively reaching out his hand toward Justin.

Justin frowned; this didn't sound good at all to him. He licked his lips nervously. "Okay," he softly said, not quite sure what the doctor had in mind.

The older man slowly reached out to push the blond hair away from his patient's forehead to peer at the healing scar hidden underneath. Justin could feel the other man's warm breath on his face as he continued to peer at his discovery thoughtfully. "What?" he asked the older man softly.

The doctor marveled briefly at the softness of his patient's hair before his eyes glanced down at the crystal-blue orbs gazing back at him concerned. Their faces were so close together…..if he just moved his head a little lower……the doctor abruptly shrank back, almost as if his hand had been caught playing with fire. He sighed. _That's exactly what I'm doing here….playing with fire._ He took a calming breath before settling himself back into his chair to address Jacob.

"You have definitely had some type of injury prior to this recent one, and to the same part of your brain," he informed him. "That would account for the scar tissue seen on the results. It may also, unfortunately, impede your recovery somewhat."

Justin's eyes filled with tears of dread. In a voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "Does this mean I won't ever get my memory back?"

Dr. Bradley tried to smile at him encouragingly. "No, not necessarily," he assured him. "Dr. Benjamin feels that you _could_, and I emphasize the word _could_, regain some if not all of your memory as the swelling subsides. But that could take weeks or even months. The fact that you have not experienced the more severe symptoms, such as paralysis and seizures, is encouraging. But we still don't know a lot about how the brain functions, and each person's case is unique. There's really no way to tell how you will progress. At the risk of sounding like a worn-out cliché, we can only hope for the best and try to help you along in the meantime."

Justin closed his eyes in fear. _Was this the way he would have to live for the rest of his life? Never knowing what happened until this morning? Living his life from this day forward? What about family, friends? What about the man he saw in his dream? Was he searching for him?_

"How would you help me along?" he asked the doctor pointedly. He wanted to know where he came from and who he was; he refused to live like a clean slate with nothing written on it until today.

The doctor answered honestly. "Three things, mainly. Mental stimulation to try and possibly redirect some of the neuron pathways that were damaged in your injury. Possibly hypnosis to try and resurrect some of the memories that may be hidden deep in your subconscious. And the third thing is simply time. You need to allow time for your brain to recover and the swelling to go down."

"That third thing will no doubt test my patience quota," Justin grimaced. "Remember?" He winced at the odd use of that word. "I don't think I DO patience well."

The doctor smiled. "Well, you don't actually have much of a choice here, Jacob. You will need to be monitored fairly closely until your body has had time to heal. We need to make sure you do not suffer any further aftereffects from your injury. It's possible, for instance, that you could still experience seizures even days after the event."

Justin closed his eyes briefly in frustration before retorting, fire in his expression now. "Great. Are you telling me I have to stay in this fucking hospital for weeks or even _months_ while I'm a virtual neurological guinea pig? Except for occasional twinges of headache and occasional dizziness, I don't feel that bad. What good is it going to do to keep me here while everyone waits to see if I'm ever going to get my memory back? After all, it's not like I even know whether I have medical insurance or not. I don't even know my fucking name! I can't stay here while I rack up thousands of dollars in medical expenses. And you can't make me stay here if I don't want to!" he retorted, crossing his arms like a stubborn child.

The doctor had to purse his lips to keep from smiling at the childish display. He had to admit – Jacob DID have a point. What WERE they going to do with him? He knew the hospital board would never permit a "John Doe" to remain indefinitely at the hospital. But he couldn't just discharge him in a few days and leave him to roam unprotected and pretty much destitute through downtown Harrisburg. He realized deep down that he was refusing to acknowledge the real reason behind his inspiration when he found himself saying rather impulsively, "You can stay with me temporarily."

Justin looked at him as if he had suddenly grown another head. "Stay with YOU? Are you kidding? You don't even know me – hell, _I _don't even know me! Why would you offer to let me stay with YOU? For all you know, I could be a serial killer or something."

The doctor DID smile now. "Somehow, I don't think you fit the proper profile of a serial killer." _Good question, though, Andrew – just why WERE you offering to do this for a virtual stranger? Was it perhaps because he was a very attractive and personable stranger?_ In either case, he certainly knew he wasn't about to tell his patient that. "Look – I just lost a roommate who transferred to another state to take a different job, so I have the extra bedroom. And you will need someone familiar with your type of injury to watch for any side effects or exacerbation of your symptoms. I imagine you would rather stay in this type of environment rather than a drop-in shelter, which, to be honest, in your case might be a distinct possibility since you have nowhere else to go once you're discharged from the hospital. We can just try it out on a trial basis and see how it goes. If it doesn't work out, I'll try and help you look for some other type of suitable arrangement. If your condition does not deteriorate overnight, you can probably be released sometime tomorrow morning in my care to continue as an outpatient. What do you say?" he asked the other man, trying hard not to let his emotions show on his face.

Justin studied the other man, still incredulous and maybe just a little suspicious of his motives. Why would this man be willing to do that for him, a virtual stranger? And why did his offer to help somehow seem familiar to him in a way? Only, something told him it really didn't have anything to do with this particular man directly. Someone, somewhere, had offered him something similar. If only he could figure out what it was, and who it involved. One thing he DID know, though, was that he wanted out of this hospital……._badly_. And probably the only way he would be able to do it was if the hospital staff knew he would be tended to by one of their own. He still didn't understand, however, why this man was willing to help him. He somehow felt he could trust this man, though.

Making up his mind, he smiled slightly in gratitude as he answered honestly, "I still don't understand why you would be willing to do this. But I appreciate it. Somehow I know that I've always fucking _hated_ hospitals. And I want out of here – no offense," he added hastily, as the other man nodded in understanding. "So if you're willing to take on a lost soul, I'd like to take you up on your offer." Before the doctor could say something, though, Justin cautioned him. "But I want to pay my way. As soon as I am able to work – do _something_ – I WILL go out and get some type of job. I'm not sure what it will be – but I want to help pay my way while I stay with you. Fair enough?" he asked the other man.

"Fair enough," the doctor confirmed, his respect for the other man and his need for independence growing. Glancing at his watch quickly, he suddenly realized he had spent a great deal of time in this particular patient's room, so much so that he would have to hustle to finish the rest of his rounds in time. "I'd better get going," he said, as he somewhat reluctantly rose from his chair. "I have to go finish checking up on the rest of my patients." He turned briefly at Justin's door to notify him, "Unless you have some type of setback tonight – and I don't expect you to," he added, trying to reassure the other man. "I will check on you tomorrow morning. If you are still making satisfactory progress and your vitals are still good, I will recommend you be released by mid-day. I get off my next shift around noon, so I can drive you back to my apartment then."

Justin smiled gratefully; he knew he had a lot of stumbling blocks to overcome in the near future, but at least he could do it from the relative comfort of a _normal_ environment, rather than this sterile, sparse room. "That sounds good." As the other man started to leave, he added, "Oh, and thanks, Dr. Bradley."

The other man smiled. "After you're discharged tomorrow, you won't be my patient any more – you'll be my _roommate_. Call me Andrew," he advised softly before leaving.


	7. Chapter 7: Release and Imprisonment

_Next day – Late morning – Harrisburg General Hospital_

"I'm really glad to see you," Michelle greeted Dr. Bradley at the nurse's station. "I have a very impatient young man anxiously wanting to talk to you," she explained.

"Hmmm," Andrew replied. "He wouldn't be slender, with blond hair and blue eyes, by chance?" _And adorable as hell….but he wasn't about to tell HER that._

She smiled. "You got it…..he said something about wanting to get out of his prison. Surely he's not actually being discharged today?" she queried. "That man sustained a traumatic brain injury. Isn't it just a little premature…….if you don't mind me asking, Doctor," she added hastily, not wanting to annoy a _superior_. Never mind that this superior was about 15 years younger than her.

Andrew nodded. "I know, I know….it DOES seem pretty fast. But there's really nothing else that we can do here with him as an inpatient that he can't do on an outpatient basis. He's concerned about not having proper insurance coverage and how the costs would add up. Besides, he will be closely monitored in his new environment to ensure he doesn't experience any further after affects."

"Oh? And how will that be accomplished?" The nurse normally didn't pry too much into a patient's personal details; however, in the short time her patient had been under her care, she had grown fond of Jacob, perhaps because he continued to remind her of one of her son's friends. As she looked to Dr. Bradley for an explanation, she noticed to her surprise that he seemed a little uncomfortable as he responded to her inquiry.

"Actually, he's going to be staying with me." At her inquisitive look, he explained, "You remember Don – Dr. Maxwell – my roommate?" At her affirmative nod, he continued. "Well, he took a transfer to a hospital in Philadelphia, leaving me with an extra bedroom. I told Jacob he could stay with me for a few days until he can find some other accommodations. I didn't want him winding up in a homeless shelter or worse," he answered in his own defense. Looking at the nurse, however, he had a feeling she wasn't quite buying that story when he noticed her knowing smirk.

She smiled. "Uh, huh," she said cynically. "I guess it wouldn't have anything to do with his _blond hair and blue eyes_ now, would it? And the fact that he's cute as a button?"

The doctor actually blushed a little, embarrassed. "I'm just trying to be a Good Samaritan," he insisted, although his explanation _did_ sound a little lame. "And before you say something about patient/doctor relationships, after I discharge him today, he won't BE my patient any longer."

"Right," she answered, smiling even wider now. She actually liked Dr. Bradley, and was always worrying about him not spending any of his time on more enjoyable pursuits. Looks like he was maybe about to change that. "Well, in either case, better get in there pretty soon, because he's chomping at the bit to leave." She winked at the doctor as he rolled his eyes and nodded at her before he turned to walk toward his patient's room.

"Finally! About fucking time," An irritated Justin greeted the doctor as he appeared in his doorway. Andrew noticed that his patient was sitting cross-legged on the bed and had already changed into the street clothes he had been found in previously: a pain of beige chinos and a long-sleeved, v-neck navy blue shirt that set off his sapphire eyes. He couldn't help noticing that Jacob's change in clothing from the drab hospital gown he had been forced to wear into more _normal_ clothing was dramatic and very flattering on the blond.

"Well?" His rumination was interrupted by an inpatient inquiry from the bed. "When do I get to bust out of here?" He crossed his arms now to mimic his legs as he raised his eyebrows to await the doctor's response.

Andrew grinned lopsidedly. "Michelle was right – you _are _chomping at the bit. Looks like that theory of yours was correct, by the way."

Justin frowned. "What theory?"

About you being impatient before AND after your injury. At least I can certainly attest to the _after_ part," he joked.

"Ha, ha – now I have a doctor who thinks he's a comedian, too. Now that we've established my type-A personality, _Doctor_, do I get out of here or not?"

"It's Andrew," he reminded him softly.

"Andrew?" Justin repeated.

"Yeah. That's what you call your _roommate_, not your doctor."

"I hope that means what I think it means," Justin replied, as he stared at the doctor hopefully.

Andrew smiled. "Yes, it does. You can leave later this morning. I should be done with rounds around noon. So you just be a good little patient until then and watch the _Price is Right, _and if you continue to behave yourself I'll come and pick you up then and take you to the apartment. How's that sound?"

Justin sighed, a little annoyed he couldn't leave NOW. "Okay," he finally said. "If that's the best you can do." Andrew smiled at him. "I'll be back in about an hour," he said, looking up to note the current time. As he turned and was about to leave, he heard the younger man huff a little before distinctly saying, "And I DON'T like the _Price is Right_, by the way…..at least as far as I know." Andrew chuckled under his breath and walked out.

* * *

_Same Time – Pittsburgh – Kinnetik_

"Brian?" The brunet looked up from his laptop to see Cynthia standing in his office doorway. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question to her. "What are you _doing_ here?" she asked softly.

Noting his assistant's atypical somber attire, he surmised that she was about to leave for Justin's memorial service. The service he couldn't bring himself to attend. "I'm working," he replied somewhat shortly. "What's it look like?"

"I…….I just thought you would be going…….to the service," the normally glib woman stammered out, puzzled. "It starts in about an hour."

"I know when it _fucking_ starts, Cynthia, okay?!" Brian snarled. He rubbed his hands over his face before placing his head in his hands and bracing his elbows on his desk, eyes now averted downward on the smooth surface. In a quieter tone, he added, "Just go, okay? Leave me alone."

Cynthia bit her lip in uncertainty. She didn't feel it was wise to leave Brian alone with just his thoughts for company at the moment. She could only imagine what types of thoughts he was processing right now, certainly none of them pleasant. After all, if she couldn't get the picture of Justin dying in that awful train crash, she was sure Brian must be imagining absolutely horrible scenarios as well.

Tentatively, she asked softly, "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" She really wanted to attend the service for Justin to honor his memory, but she would stay with Brian if he needed her to. She was well aware of the deep love the two of them had shared, and the exquisite pain that her boss was now surely going through since their bond had been abruptly and cruelly severed.

Brian sighed; he fought the tears that had unexpectedly appeared in his eyes at the sound of his assistant's compassion. He knew Cynthia was only trying to help him; the only problem was, _no one_ could help him with the one thing he needed, unless they had somehow invented a way to go back in time and undo these horrendous past few days and return the only thing, the only _one,_ he so desperately needed right now.

"Brian?" she called out softly when he didn't seem to respond to her. He finally looked up through haunted, red-rimmed eyes and shook his head, saying, "No, Cynthia. You go on. I just want to be alone." At her look of deep concern, he reassured her. "Don't worry – I won't hang myself until you get back. Go," he urged her. She turned one side of her mouth up in an expression of indecision before finally saying, "Okay. I'll be back as soon as it's over. Call me on my cell phone if you need _anything_ in the meantime. Okay?" she repeated. At Brian's nod of acknowledgement, she quietly walked out and headed down the hallway, leaving the entire office cloaked in an eerie, mid-morning silence.

As soon as he was assured everyone had left, he raised his head only to be met with a recent photo of Gus and Justin that had taken an honorary place on the corner of his desk. It had been taken last Christmas, when Justin had talked him into flying to Canada to visit Gus and the Munchers. Justin and Gus were both wearing matching goofy, red and white Santa hats along with goofy grins, arms wrapped around each other and surrounded by tons of shredded, festive holiday wrapping paper that Gus had frantically torn to reach the gifts that he had opened to shrieks of delight. It was a wonder that he could get the two of them to stay still long enough for him to take the picture, but somehow they miraculously had. In the photo, the love between the two of them was so apparent; over the years, Gus had grown to love Justin just as much as he loved his father. Hell, he had thought of _both _of them as his dads. _Oh, God – what was he going to tell GUS?_ The glass from the picture frame shattered into a tiny million pieces as it violently hit the far wall, just before Brian dropped his head into his folded arms on the desk and wept.

* * *

_Gay and Lesbian Center – Liberty Avenue_

Daphne carefully looked over the collage of photos that had been assembled on the large piece of foam board near the back of the room. Some of the photos, taken during Justin's high school years, were familiar to her. But the older, faded photos of her best friend taken in grade school were all new to her. She was especially taken aback to see a small, 4 X 6 photo of her friend sitting at a standard-size piano, apparently playing a tune.

"He was quite good at it," she heard his mother say softly behind her. She turned to see Jennifer smiling wistfully at the photo. As Daphne looked at her, puzzled, she explained, "He took piano lessons when he turned 7 years old, and was actually pretty faithful with them until he turned 11. That's when he discovered his _real_ passion – art. His favorite uncle gave him a sketch pad and some colored pencils at Christmas that year, and once he started drawing, there was no turning back. The only thing the piano was touched by after that was _dust._" She smiled in memory of how excited her son was when he became absorbed in drawing something that captured his fascination, whether it was a still life of fruit, a person walking nearby, or an old, quirky-looking building. Of course, over the past few years, there had been only one major source of his inspiration. As she walked a few steps over to a large, rectangular-shaped table adorned with various framed pieces of artwork and drawings that her son had painted or sketched, she stopped in front of one pencil drawing in particular – a black and white composition of the person that had almost single-handedly inspired her son's work for the past several years. The man in the sketch was standing in silhouette next to a large, floor-to-ceiling window, his lean body cast completely in shadow against the moonlight pouring in from the full moon outside.

"He's not coming, you know," Jennifer said to her softly. "He…..he told me to do what I needed to do….for Justin. But I guess he just couldn't handle it. The finality. He has to handle it in his own way; I respect that. I worry about him, though, you know?" She laughed softly when she turned to Daphne to say, "That's really ironic, because you know how I felt about him initially." Daphne smiled and nodded. "I thought he was going to totally corrupt my son. Use him for his own brand of perverted pleasure and then move on to his next big conquest. And maybe that's what he had in mind to begin with. But a strange thing happened, both to Brian and to me. My son could be very persistent when he wanted to be," she smiled again at the memory, tears forming in her eyes. It was so hard to talk about Justin in the _past tense_. "And I think he just wore poor, old Brian down. And before he knew what hit him, my son had lassoed his heart. And somewhere along the line, my opinion of the man changed." She shook her head, almost in disbelief, and she reached down into her pocket to snatch a worn-out Kleenex and dab her eyes with it. "I told him I would still think of him as my son-in-law, even though it was never legal. That's just the way I feel about him. It was so obvious how much they loved each other. You only find love like that once in a lifetime. I could _feel_ it with them." She pressed the soaked Kleenex to her eyes to try and stem the tide of tears that was falling anew. "I'll never understand it," she said to Daphne, whose tear-filled eyes matched the older woman's. "I know," Daphne whispered, as they both reached to embrace each other, their two sets of arms tightly wrapped together into a cocoon of comfort.

* * *

_Calhoun Street, Harrisburg_

"Well, what do you think?" Andrew looked over at Justin carefully, trying to appear nonchalant as he secretly looked for any signs of fatigue or discomfort in his newly-acquired roommate. The blond had chosen an overstuffed, dark gray corduroy chair to perch on as soon as they walked into the apartment.

"It's very nice," Justin decided, looking around the living area filled with bookshelves, a medium-size flat screen t.v., a matching dark gray couch and two corduroy chairs. The apartment was actually an entire second floor of an old Victorian house and was quite spacious. The walls were at least 12 feet high, and the windows were large and rectangular, letting in a great deal of the early-afternoon sunlight that was currently pouring in.

"Oh, uh," Andrew remarked. "It's _nice_?" he repeated. "That's usually what a person says when they get something like a fruitcake for a gift. _That's nice._" he repeated in a falsetto voice, which actually made Justin laugh.

"No," he assured the other man. "It really IS nice. I like all the light that comes in. And I think the older houses are more interesting than the cookie-cutter ones you usually see nowadays. And I bet all the rooms are big, just like the living room." He tried to look around to view more of his surroundings, when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the side of his head, near his injury. "Ow," he cried out softly.

Andrew immediately rushed over to him, kneeling down in front of the younger man so they were fairly eye to eye. "What is it, Jacob?" he asked the blond with concern. He had to fight the strong impulse he suddenly had to take the other man's hands in his; instead, he curled his own hands into a fist and dropped them to either side while he waited for the other man to respond.

Justin smiled slightly in reassurance. "It was just a little twinge of pain when I tried to turn my head, that's all," he said lightly.

"Where was it?" Andrew asked, eyes soft with worry. "Show me."

Justin hesitated for a few seconds; he didn't want Andrew to start playing mother hen/doctor all of a sudden, but that was actually part of the reason why he had been released so early. The alternative of going back into the hospital was more unpleasant than being truthful with this man. He slowly raised his hand to place it near the recent impact point on his head. "Here," he said simply as he held it against his blond hair.

"Be still," Andrew commanded in a soft but firm voice. Justin felt warm, soft hands gently probing around the impact area. "Does any of that feel painful or tender?" he asked the other man, his hazel eyes practically boring into the sapphire blue ones. Just like yesterday, the two men found themselves close enough to feel each other's breath on their faces. And just like yesterday, Andrew found himself almost holding his breath as he felt an unmistakable attraction toward this vulnerable but beautiful man.

He forced himself to pull back a little so he wasn't so close to the inviting, full lips and concentrated instead of feeling for anything that seemed unusual or worrisome. His voice took on a professional persona as he asked Justin, "Are you still feeling any pain? Anywhere?" He looked over intently at the blond, waiting for his answer.

"No," Justin assured him firmly. "It was only that one, momentary twinge. I'm fine," he declared. "Really." As Andrew gave him that _don't lie to me look_, Justin sheepishly admitted, "I'm just a little tired, I guess."

"Mm hmm," Andrew murmured. "You need to go lie down, Mr. Martin," he determined. "Up," he commanded. "I'll show you where the spare bedroom is. Come on," he urged him, as he stood up facing the other man. He gently grasped the other man's sleeve to help encourage him to rise from the chair, and then wisely decided he'd better release him; he had already played with fire enough yesterday. "This way," he instructed his roommate, nodding his head over toward a side door.

"You doctors sure are pushy," Justin grumbled, as Andrew chuckled.

"Never mind that," Andrew retorted. "Sleep now, witty repartee later." He opened the tall, heavy wooden door with a glass, art-deco design doorknob and stood to the side to get the other man's impression. He watched as Jacob's eyes lit up when he noted the antique, intricately designed mahogany desk and the matching, solid wood dresser and bed. The room was decidedly masculine, with its bold, dark navy striped duvet and matching heavy drapes pulled back to allow some more of the bright light to invade the room. "This is great," Justin declared softly, a small smile on his lips.

"Well, that's somewhat better than _nice_," Andrew teased. "Do you think you can climb into the bed or will you need a step stool?" he asked the other man, grinning. The bed frame _was_ rather imposing, and the thick, extra deep mattress didn't help to make it any easier to access.

Justin smirked. "Very funny," he replied, not being to keep a small smile from appearing in reaction to the other man's joke. "I think I can manage," he advised the other man solemnly.

Andrew noticed his hesitation, however. "Well?"

"I can get into the bed……I just don't WANT to," Justin said. After all, that was pretty all he had done since arriving at the hospital yesterday. The last thing he really wanted to do was sleep some more, but he also knew he was dead on his feet all of a sudden.

Andrew huffed. "Patients….always uncooperative whether they're in the hospital or not. That was not a _request_, Mr. Martin. I may not be your doctor officially any longer, but I'm the person keeping you out of a hospital bed. And as your new roommate and _former_ doctor, I am instructing you to get in that bed……._now._" Andrew didn't dare think about the dream he had had last night when he had ironically said something similar to Jacob, only he wasn't trying to get him into bed for _sleep_. _Don't go there, Bradley_, he warned himself.

Justin sighed in resignation. He knew the man was right – he WAS tired and he knew his body needed to rest and heal. "Okay. I'll get some sleep. But only for a little while…….I'm actually kind of hungry, too," he remarked abruptly as his stomach emitted a loud growling noise.

Andrew chuckled again. "Something tells me you're going to be a _high maintenance_ roommate. Go," he demanded again. Justin shook his head but shuffled slowly over to the bed. He surprised Andrew by adeptly climbing up and into the bed, the covers already drawn back invitingly. As he slowly lay down, he turned his head gradually until he was staring back at Andrew, who continued to gaze at him with an unreadable expression.

"Sleep," was all Andrew said, as he turned to leave. "I'll be right outside if you need something. But NO sudden movements, understand?"

"Yes, Doctor," Justin dutifully replied. "What time is dinner?"

Andrew snorted. "I think _high maintenance_ doesn't quite describe it," he muttered, loud enough, however, to be overheard by a certain blond. "How about 5?" he asked his new roommate good naturedly.

Just before he left the room, he heard Jacob's voice softly mumble, "Just ring me, James," before he quickly fell asleep. Andrew laughed softly and risked a quick, tender glance over at the other man before he returned to the living room.


	8. Chapter 8: A Slow and Gradual Awakening

**A/N: Thank you for all the feedback for this story. I realize it has engendered its share of controversy - some of you are not too happy with me at the moment - LOL! I respect that, and if you prefer not to read about Justin with an O/C I certainly understand. But if you have read my prior stories, you know I'm a dyed-in-the-wool B/J shipper and the boys are _always_ going to get together eventually. So if you can be a little patient with me, you will be _rewarded_ - hint, hint.....:) I don't think Justin, however, can regain his memory overnight....BUT - that being said - I will try and perhaps speed it up a bit more than I had initally planned. Hopefully this chapter is a prelude to that....thanks again for reading and for your comments!**

* * *

_Calhoun Street – 2:00 a.m._

Justin tossed and turned in his sleep as his thoughts tumbled in his head; once again, he was dreaming of a tall, lean, toned brunet with hazel eyes – the same man he had dreamed about the night before. In his dream, he appeared to be standing in a bedroom with the other man, who was undressing. Even though he was dreaming, he could distinctly hear in his head the fluid, tender words the other man was saying: _"Sunshine, how did I ever get along without you?"_ _"You didn't," _Justin could hear himself responding. The man gently grasped Justin's head in his hands as their lips came together for a gentle, loving kiss before the older man slowly walked them back toward the bed located directly behind them. Justin could almost feel the other man's warm, soft but firm arms caressing his body before he playfully pushed him down on the bed. Justin saw himself laughing at the handsome man as he fell down on top of him. Their light, carefree spontaneity quickly became heated and sensual, however, as the two of them pressed their bodies tightly together in an apparent well-known and well-choreographed dance as moans of pleasure filled the room. Justin heard himself whisper, "Brian," before the other man silenced him with a deep, toe-curling kiss, his hands never stopping their journey all over his chest, his arms, his neck, his ass, _everywhere_, before one long, tanned arm curled itself around his cock and he moaned again as his body went into emotional and physical overdrive.

As Justin thrashed around in slumber, the sheets bunched up against his sweating body, his dream abruptly changed. Instead of making love with the man he had called _Brian,_ he was now in a crowded dance club. A driving rhythm was playing overhead and confetti was raining down on everyone's head. Drinks were flowing at the nearby bar and small, round tables were grouped around the entire dance floor. Men and women of all ages were mingling around the room in clusters as the music eventually died down; a flamboyant, taller man began speaking to them from the stage about some type of benefit. The man enthusiastically introduced Cyndi Lauper, who appeared as a curtain was drawn back and she began to perform a driving number. In his dream, Justin could see himself standing with a drink as the song continued to play. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and a deafening boom. Soon the sound of debris raining down was mixed with people crying out in pain and moaning in agony throughout the room as a cacophonous alarm sounded overhead.

"No! Oh, God, No!" Justin shouted, as he woke up in a panic, his upper body rising from the bed to a sitting position. His entire frame was drenched in sweat and his heart was beating rapidly as he heard his bedroom door being quickly opened.

"Jacob?" he heard Andrew urgently calling him. "What is it?" the concerned voice asked. In the semi-darkness of the room, he could make out the other man's form as he rushed over to sit on the side of Justin's bed. "Are you all right? I heard you shouting. What happened? Is it another headache?" The man's eyes shone directly at Justin as he peered intently at the younger man. He couldn't quite see the blond well enough to ascertain if something was seriously wrong, so he finally reached over to flip on the nearby lamp, casting the room in a soft glow.

Gazing over at the troubled younger man now trembling on the bed, he noticed the man's bangs clinging against his sweat-covered brow and the covers heaped in a tumbled mess at the man's feet; the pajama bottoms he had let Jacob borrow were bunched up around his knees as if he had been in a fight of some kind. Even though Andrew wasn't a psychiatrist, it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened. "You were dreaming again, weren't you?" he asked softly. Despite the caution bells going off in his head, as he looked at the vulnerable, frightened man sitting on the bed close to him, he couldn't help reaching out to gently push the sweat-covered hair back from the other man's forehead as blue, tear-filled eyes gazed back at him in pain.

Finally, Justin nodded slightly in confirmation, his eyes closing as a few tears escaped down his cheeks. Andrew's hand wanted so badly to reach out and wipe the tears away as well, but he resisted the strong urge to do so. As much as he was finding himself attracted to this other man, the last thing he wanted to do was try and take advantage of him in his vulnerable state. Instead, he chose to try and help Jacob sort through his thoughts. "Can you tell me about it?" he asked the blond, as he gave him a small, reassuring smile.

Justin turned his head slightly away from the other man to try and collect his thoughts and remember the details. "I…..I dreamed about that man again, at least in the beginning," he slowly began.

"The dark-haired man from the other night? The one you think you had a relationship with?" he gently pressed. Andrew was surprised to find that he was strangely jealous of this other man, who seemingly knew Jacob so well, even though he was just a vision to him for now.

"Yes," Justin softly verified, his eyes clouding over as he struggled to remember all the details of this other person. "I _know_ it was the same man – I'm _sure_ of it," he said firmly. He looked back at Andrew, a little embarrassed, as he continued. "We……we were in a bedroom and he was changing clothes. We were talking to each other and then……he led me toward the bed and we – we were about to make love." Andrew noticed Jacob actually blushing slightly, his face reddening to a darker shade, as he recalled the vivid details of his dream. He noticed, however, that Jacob's expression changed dramatically as he advised him, "The dream changed then. The other man was gone and I was at some kind of dance club with a lot of other people. It was apparently some kind of benefit, and Cyndi Lauper got up to perform. Just as she was singing, though, there was a noise." Justin shut his eyes tightly, then, to try and block out the horrific memory of what happened.

"What kind of noise?" Andrew probed gently.

Justin put his hands over his eyes in some kind of attempt to try and banish the ugly details from his mind, but it was a futile effort. The screams of agony echoed in his head even though he was awake. "There……..there was an explosion, I think. There was a bright flash of white light and an enormous boom. The room was falling down around me and, and I could hear people screaming and moaning in pain." He put his head in his hands and looked down at the bed, shaking his head as the scene continued to play out. "I heard this siren going off and people crying _everywhere_. There……there was so much _blood_, Andrew. So much _pain_." He turned to the other man, who was looked at him intently with sympathy. "It was so real….like it was happening right now. I just know I actually lived through something like that." A sudden thought occurred to him as he looked directly at the doctor. "Do you think _that's_ the reason for my memory loss? Do you think I was there when it happened and _that's_ when I was injured?"

Andrew looked at him thoughtfully, mulling that idea over. "I suppose it's possible," he said in a professional tone of voice, his training as a doctor temporarily taking over. "That kind of event could certainly produce a type of traumatic brain injury. But I think you would have been injured over other parts of your body if the entire room had been caving in around you. And if something like that _did_ occur around Harrisburg, I would have certainly heard about it at the hospital." He explained to Justin, "I've only been a resident here for the past six months – before then, I did a prior residency at Virginia. From the looks of your head injury, you were injured recently. So I really don't think it was from that kind of accident. If it _was_ an accident," he pointed out. "You could have also simply been the victim of some type of assault – that could have produced your kind of injury as well."

Andrew noticed that Jacob's body had relaxed somewhat by now. "Any headaches?" he asked clinically. He wanted to make sure his roommate wasn't experiencing any ill effects physically from his recent ordeal.

Justin shook his head negatively. "No, just that fucking terrible dream," he confirmed. "Only somehow I know, Andrew – that wasn't just some kind of dream. It really happened to me – I know it. Now I just have to find out what it means." He suddenly had an inspiration. "While you're at work tomorrow, can I borrow your computer? I want to go online and see if I can find out if what I dreamed really DID happen, and if so, _where_ it happened."

Andrew frowned at him. "Are you sure that's wise, Jacob? I know I'm not a psychiatrist, but I'm not so sure that's the best way to go about trying to get your memories back."

Whatever Justin remembered or _didn't _remember, he still retained his stubborn streak. "I _have_ to, Andrew. I _have_ to know. Somehow I think my dreams are what will help me get my memories back."

Andrew persisted. "Jacob – it's only been a couple of days. You're scheduled to meet with a psychologist at the end of the week for your first session with him. Maybe you should wait and talk to him first before you try this on your own. You may just wind up doing yourself more damage if you try to self-treat yourself."

Justin smiled a little at his professional concern, but he could not be dissuaded. "I'm grateful for all you've done, Andrew, but I just _can't _wait. What if there's someone out there somewhere, wondering what's happened to me? This man, for instance. I _know_ he exists. I _feel_ it." Andrew noticed the other man's eyes actually light up as he confided to him excitedly, "I heard his _name_ this time. In my dream. I called him "_Brian."_ That's a start, isn't it?"

Andrew pursed his lips together. He didn't know if he was happy or disappointed that Jacob apparently had someone, somewhere waiting for him. He sighed and took a breath before relenting finally. "Okay, Jacob," he said softly. "I'll leave my laptop on the coffee table when I go to work if you want to do a little sleuthing on your own." Justin smiled at him excitedly as Andrew warned, "Just tread carefully. Be sure of your facts before you go marching headfirst into something. And if you experience any post-injury symptoms tomorrow – like a headache, dizziness, or light headedness, you stop what you're doing _immediately_ and call me. I'll leave you my cell number next to the computer, okay?" He looked over at the younger man intently until he received a nod of agreement and Justin signaled he would with an imaginary crossing of his heart. Andrew twisted his mouth and sighed. "Okay….I'm going to hold you to that. You think you can get some sleep now?" he asked the other man.

Justin took a deep, calming breath. "Yeah, I think so," he eventually decided, as he slowly lay back down on the bed. Andrew gazed at him for a few seconds before he reached down and straightened the bunched-up fabric of the pajama legs to cover Justin's legs completely. He then grasped the wrinkled sheet and duvet and pulled them both up to the blond's neck. He thought fleetingly of how inviting the other man's lips looked just then before he smiled at the other man reassuringly and nodded. As he slowly pulled back and stood up from the bed, Justin softly replied, "Thanks, Andrew. You've really been a good friend to me. I _do _appreciate everything you've done. I'm so fucking glad to be out of that hospital and in a _real_ bed."

"You're welcome, Jacob," Andrew spoke just above a whisper. "Now try and get some more sleep, okay?" Justin nodded and closed his eyes as Andrew reached over and turned off the light to once again bathe the room in semi-darkness. "I'll be right in the next room if you need me," he reassured the other man, as Justin, eyes still closed, nodded slightly in response and snuggled deeper into the mattress.

Andrew stood transfixed by the door for several seconds, watching the other man closely before he sighed and turned to leave, shutting the door softly behind him.


	9. Chapter 9: Travel Plans

_The Next Morning - Harrisburg_

Andrew slowly woke up as his nose registered a surprising scent in the air…..could it be……_bacon?_ Sniffing a little more urgently, he noticed he was awake and wasn't dreaming….it WAS bacon. Feeling foolishly like he was some mongrel in a dog treat commercial, he smirked and slowly rose from the bed. After making a quick pit stop at the connecting bathroom, he grabbed his lightweight robe hanging on the back of the door and trudged out to the great room area. The aroma of the bacon was very strong now, as he heard distinctive sizzling sounds coming from the stove. He was momentarily startled to see a blond-haired man standing in front of the appliance before he realized it was his former patient, out of bed and apparently….cooking?

"Jacob?" he called out, a yawn unintentionally erupting from his mouth. He had slept somewhat fitfully last night after he had been awakened by his roommate's nightmare.

Justin turned and gave him a shy smile. "Good Morning," he murmured. "I hope you don't mind….I woke up a little while ago and couldn't get back to sleep, so I came out to the kitchen and, well, one thing led to another and…..well, I raided your fridge," he admitted, a little embarrassed. At the other man's look of amusement, he explained, "I was actually trying to fix you breakfast….to thank you for everything you've done for me." He gingerly picked up the last of the six strips of bacon from the pan and set it down on the nearby plate covered with a paper towel to absorb the grease. Andrew continued to look at Justin with amusement as he noticed that not only was there a generous amount of bacon cooked, but also four fried eggs, four pieces of toast, and two big glasses of orange juice. "Well, as your former doctor, I'm glad to see that your appetite apparently has not been affected. As your current _roommate_, however, it _does_ beg the question: what the hell do you think I am, Mr. Martin? A fucking human zamboni? There's enough food here to serve an entire hockey team!"

Justin looked at him sheepishly. "Is it too much?" he asked meekly; finally, a small grin broke out. "Nah," he decided, evoking an outright laugh from the other man.

"Looks like I got the _high maintenance _part right," Andrew declared, grinning. Justin smiled back at him as he placed a couple of plates down on the nearby table, along with some silverware he had found in a drawer. The brunet remarked, "Well, as long as you went to this trouble, I might as well try to be a gracious recipient. I only hope I don't run into the hospital's dietician and have to lie about what a nutritional, low-fat breakfast I ate at home this morning." He sat down next to Justin and picked up a strip of bacon. Taking a bite, he commented, "Not bad," producing an odd expression on the other man's face. "What is it?" he asked curiously.

Justin frowned a little. "I don't know…..it's just that what you said…..The _not bad_ part," he explained. "I got this déjà vu feeling again….like it's familiar." He put his hand on his forehead in frustration. "Shit! I keep getting this feeling all the time…..like I should know something, that I've been through this all before. Only I can't remember _why_…….Damn it!" He banged his fork down a little abruptly on the plate as Andrew looked at him sympathetically. He sighed deeply and let his breath out. "I'm sorry, Andrew….I don't mean to take it out on you. You've been great to me…..it's just SO _frustrating_. Like something's on the tip of your tongue, only you can't really put your finger on it, you know?"

"Well, I can't say I've exactly been through what _you're_ going through right now, but I've had my share of _senior moments_, as I would call them. Like the time I tried to put toothpaste on my disposable razor one day….." At Justin's shocked look, he retorted, "Hey, YOU try being alert when you've had 36 straight hours of rounds as a resident. "Yes, I said _thirty-six hours_," he enunciated firmly. "Well, I DID manage to catch myself before I did it," he explained further. "It would have made for one hell of a mouth sore, though, don't you think?" he joked. He was heartened to see the other man smile slightly; at least his joke had had the desired effect. But he became serious as he sought to reassure the other man. "Like I said, I've never had to go what you're going through, but I would say that's perfectly normal, Jacob. Actually, you should see it as a hopeful sign that you're beginning to remember bits and pieces of your memory."

Justin sighed. "I do, I guess. It's just SO frustrating." Thinking of how desperately he wished to regain his memory made him think of his and Andrew's conversation last night. "Will you still leave me your laptop this morning when you go to work?" he asked the other man hopefully; he really wanted to check out the details of his dream from last night.

Andrew was torn; he wanted to help Jacob but not being a specialist in psychology, he wasn't sure if this was the right way to go about it. But he HAD promised him, and he was a man of his word. "Yes," he ultimately told the other man. "I will leave it, like I said. But you remember what _you_ promised, too, Jacob. You promised me that at the least little sign of any discomfort that you will call me....deal?" He looked at the blond expectantly.

Justin nodded his head excitedly. He couldn't wait to sit down and delve into the details of his dream. "Deal," he answered solemnly. "And Andrew…..thanks."

Andrew nodded and stood up from the table. "Thank you, too…..even if that WAS about 1200 calories way too much, it was really good. Maybe you were a chef in your previous life. Although with that slender figure, you either weren't a cook or you've got one hell of a high metabolism." He was staring at the other man so intently that Justin found himself blushing a little at the intensity.

The younger man cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Well….I'll get these dishes cleaned up so you can go get ready for work," Justin decided, as he took the two plates over to the sink and started running the water.

"Uh, yeah….good idea," the doctor agreed. "I'd better get busy, or I'll be late." He nodded slightly as he turned back toward his bedroom. As he shut the door, he leaned against it briefly and closed his eyes, willing his breathing to slow down. _You're acting like a lovesick schoolboy here_, he chided himself. _Get a fucking grip._ He shook his head a little in disgust before purposely striding over to his bathroom to take a shower.

Justin stood at the sink, absentmindedly washing the dirty dishes. His thoughts were in turmoil – vacillating between the dark-haired, lean man with the shy smile and gold-flecked hazel eyes he had been constantly dreaming of, and the real-life, slightly-younger dark-haired man that was presently his roommate.

He had only known Andrew a short time, but it was becoming quickly apparent that the other man had a crush on him; after all, what doctor would bring a total stranger back to his own apartment and make him his roommate unless there was something more to it than that? And just how did he feel about Andrew, for that matter? He wasn't blind – the man was very attractive, had a great sense of humor, and was kind and compassionate. In a normal situation, he would probably be quite drawn to him. Who wouldn't?

But this was no normal situation here – he had just met the man a couple of days ago, and he had a much more important concern at the moment – getting his memory back. And finding out just what – and who – was occupying all his dreams lately. The man he had called _Brian_.

As he finished washing the rest of the dishes a few minutes later, he heard Andrew's bedroom door opening as the other man walked out into the living room carrying a leather tote bag. Placing it down on the coffee table, he said, "here you go," as he opened it up and pulled his laptop out. "It's all set up to go whenever you're ready." He looked over a Justin with concern. "I'm still not sure this is a good idea, Jacob," he repeated softly. "Listen to your body," he counseled. "If you start to feel funny – dizziness, lightheadedness, headache – STOP what you're doing _immediately_ and call me. Remember what I said – you could still be prone to seizures even now, even if you seem to feel fine at the moment." He picked up his jacket lying nearby and spared one last glance over at the other man, who had walked up to him and stood nearby. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small, white handwritten note. "This has my cell # on it – it will reach me directly right away. Call me if you need _anything_….okay?" He peered at him intently until Justin nodded his understanding. He nodded, seemingly placated but not entirely satisfied, as he slung his jacket casually over his shoulder and turned toward the door. "I'll come home for lunch later to see how you're doing," he advised the other man, just before he opened the door and walked out.

Justin was finally left with his thoughts; the only sound was the soft ticking of the overhead clock nearby. Somewhat nervously, he slowly walked the few steps back over to the couch and sat down, leaning over to open up the laptop and begin his investigation. Setting it down on his thighs, he leaned back on the couch and waited impatiently for the computer to start up.

After a couple of minutes, he finally was able to access the internet. Immediately navigating to a search engine, with shaking hands, he quickly typed in "_explosion Cyndi Lauper"_ and held his breath as he waited for a response to his inquiry. The screen changed rapidly and he looked over nervously at the results. There was a full page of results to his request. The first result was from an entertainment website that apparently contained an interview with the singer. He eagerly clicked on that entry, and scanned down the interview to skim over it. The interview was dated approximately a year ago and ran the gamut from questions about her current singing tour to her present romantic relationship with a non-entertainment beau to _finally_ a couple of questions that seemed pertinent to his dream last night. There was a reference to something called _Proposition 14_, which apparently related to gay rights, and, more critically, a question about how the "tragic events" that occurred surrounding the fight for passage had changed her. Justin was saddened but also frustrated by the response: there was merely a vague reference to the "event" and a sorrowful answer from Ms. Lauper regretting the loss of life. _So people must have died,_ he thought, horrified. He was suddenly hit by a frightening possibility: what if this man called _Brian_ that kept appearing in his dreams had been _killed_ in the explosion? He had never even thought of that possibility. He hoped desperately that wasn't the case, because he felt strongly that the two of them had shared a strong bond.

Closing that site, he looked at the next search result. This one was a selection from the website for the _Pittsburgh_ _Post-Gazette_. Frowning, he was hit once again with a sense of déjà vu. With trembling fingers, he clicked on the selection and waited for it to come up. This entry depicted a color photo of what appeared to be a decimated building with a headline in extremely large, black letters that stated, "_GAY CLUB SITE OF FATAL EXPLOSION."_ Justin's heart began to beat rapidly as he began to read the article, which was dated approximately 18 months ago:

_A prominent gay dance club, holding a benefit for passage of the State's Proposition 14 issue, was the scene of an apparent bombing last night. Pittsburgh Police tell the Post-Gazette that they have counted a total of seven fatalities and 47 injured from the explosion that ripped through the Babylon Club at approximately 11:30 last evening. There was a capacity crowd of approximately 350 patrons inside the club at the time of the fatal explosion. _

_Well-known 1980's singer, Cyndi Lauper, was the featured entertainer at the benefit to raise funds to fight passage of the proposition, which would severely restrict civil liberties for the gay population of Pittsburgh – she was not, however, injured in the blast. Deputy Pittsburgh Police Chief, Steven Crenshaw, refused to speculate as to whether the apparent bombing was the result of a hate crime. "It is too early to determine the exact cause, or motive, for the explosion," he stated in an interview held at the Precinct 12 Headquarters early this morning. _

_The injured patrons sustained a variety of injuries; 22 are currently listed in critical or serious condition, while the remaining 25 were treated and released from several area hospitals, which were severely challenged with the high amount of injured. A press conference will be held tomorrow by the District 10 Fire Department to release further details of their investigation; the Post-Gazette will be covering this story and provide further information as it becomes available._

Justin held his breath. So his dream _wasn't_ just a dream – it really happened. People were not only injured, they were killed, also. He urgently scanned a column at the bottom of the article that listed each person that had been injured and killed in the blast. He read through each name slowly, saying them aloud to see if any of them sounded familiar. While he found himself pausing over some particular names more than others, try as he might he could not get his brain to tell him why. The only comforting result from his perusal of the list was that there wasn't anyone named Brian on it. At least, then, he could be fairly certain that the man he so urgently wanted to find wasn't among the ones that were hurt or killed during the explosion.

It also gave him the first real ray of hope that he was about to take a dramatic step toward discovering his identity: he was certain more than ever that he was actually inside that club when the explosion occurred that night over a year ago. And he also knew now just _where_ the club was: Pittsburgh.

He excitedly typed in "Babylon Club, Pittsburgh," into the search engine and waited for the results. A website for the club was the first entry result. Triumphantly, he clicked on the site and was greeted with a photo of the club. He was disappointed when he didn't experience any flicker of recognition from the picture as he studied it. He read the history regarding the club and learned it had been there for several years. He clicked on the "_Take a Tour"_ section and scanned all the photos posted for the site; again, while some of the areas shown seemed to resonate with him due to the dream he had last night, he was still deterred in his hope to actually recognize any of the faces shown in the photos. He WAS successful with one endeavor, however – he now had the address for the club. In his mind, therefore, there was only one next logical step: he _had_ to go there.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the apartment entry door being opened; glancing up at the clock, he was startled to notice that it was lunch time already. "Hey," he heard Andrew greet him as he walked over to the couch. "How are you feeling? Any problems?" he asked curiously with just a hint of concern. He had found himself constantly worrying about his former patient the entire time he had been making rounds this morning.

Justin shook his head. "Not really," he answered.

"_Not really?_" Andrew repeated. "What exactly does _not really_ mean?" he asked him, eyes narrowed. "I thought I told you to call me if you had any problems," he gently lectured the other man.

"I didn't," Justin assured him. "My eyes are just a little tired, that's all. I've been looking at the computer all morning," he offered by way of explanation. His eyes suddenly lit up. "Sit down," he urged the other man, as he scooted over slightly to make room for Andrew. "There's something I want to show you," he said excitedly.

"You found something," Andrew surmised. That much was obvious by how excited the blond was; his eyes were positively sparkling with jubilation. "What did you find?" he asked him curiously.

"I found out there _was_ an explosion at a club…..just like I dreamed," he revealed. "It happened a little over a year ago….in _Pittsburgh._" He grabbed the other man's arm enthusiastically and gripped it firmly. "I think _that's_ where I'm from, Andrew….._Pittsburgh._"

Andrew considered that for a few seconds before responding. "Maybe," he finally conceded. "It's certainly possible, I guess. _Anything's_ possible at this stage of the game. Doesn't really explain how you wound up in Harrisburg a year later, though," he pointed out.

"No," Justin admitted. "But it's the biggest lead I have right now about my identity. He closed the laptop shut and turned to look at the doctor with a determined expression on his face. "I have to go there," he abruptly advised the other man.

"Whoa, wait right there, Pal," the other man declared, an expression of worry on his face. "You just got out of the hospital, Jacob!" he admonished the blond. "Your body is still NOT healed, and won't be for quite some time. You can't just go traipsing all over the state to take a stroll down Memory Lane." He placed his free hand over the other man's hand which was still gripping his sleeve and gave it a squeeze. "You need to slow down, my friend."

But as Justin had so succinctly pointed out the other day, patience wasn't one of his virtues. "I'm not _taking_ a stroll down Memory Lane," he countered a little defensively. "Just _Pittsburgh._ I HAVE to go there….it may be the only clue I have to my identity and getting my memories back. Surely you understand that," he asked the other man pointedly. "How would YOU feel if you couldn't remember anything about yourself, other than an awful dream where people were injured and died? There were seven people _KILLED_ and over 47 injured according to the paper's website, Andrew. Maybe even some of my family or friends – who knows? I HAVE to go there," he repeated. "I need to know _who I am_." His eyes pleaded with the other man's urgently to somehow understand. "I need my life back."

He continued to stare at the other man, his eyes shining with unshed tears of frustration, until the other man sighed deeply. "I still don't know if this is a good idea, Jacob," the man finally said softly. "But if you are that determined to go, then I guess I can't stop you. But I'm putting my foot down here – you will NOT go alone. With the possibility of you having seizures, you are NOT able to drive right now. Hell, we don't even know if you have a _driver's license_!" he pointed out.

"So I can take a bus…..or a train (for some reason his voice stumbled somewhat over the word _train)_…or hitch a ride," he persisted.

Andrew let out a troubled breath. "Persistent little fucker, aren't you?" he remarked sarcastically. He had to smile a little, though, at Justin's ready nod in agreement; somehow, even though they had only known each other for a few days, he had an idea the other man knew that he was about to, once again, cave in to those pouting lips and puppy-dog look.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay," he relented as Justin grinned outright now. "BUT……You will have to wait until this weekend," he advised, receiving a groan of disapproval from the other man. Somewhat apologetically he explained, "As a lowly resident, I just can't run off at the drop of a hat. You need someone to take you there, you don't have any money or a driver's license, and you need someone with medical expertise to keep an eye on you while you're away to monitor your condition. Take it or leave it," he announced firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation as he looked at the other man for his answer.

"But….." He started. The other man continued to stare him down. Justin huffed. _Three whole days_. It might as well be a fucking year in his mind. He rolled his eyes and sighed as the other man merely raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge. He bit his lip in irritation, but he had to admit it – Andrew had a point. He was the one calling the shots right now and he _needed him_. "Okay," he finally groused in acceptance. "I'll wait……but can we leave _first thing _Saturday morning? As soon as it's light out?" he pressed.

Andrew smiled and shook his head in resignation. "Yeah," he verified. "First thing," he repeated. He rose from his place on the couch, and held out a hand. "Come on, Mr. Martin," he prodded the other man.

Justin slowly reached out his smaller hand to grasp the other man's; Andrew gently pulled him up from the couch before releasing his hold. "Let's go track down some lunch. I have to get back to the hospital pretty soon. Something tells me, though, that I don't have to wait for your next dream to figure out you've always had a good appetite," he kidded him. Justin chuckled a little as he followed him out to the kitchen, but found his thoughts dwelling on his upcoming journey, one that he hoped would finally give him the answers he was so anxiously waiting for.


	10. Chapter 10: Talents Rise to the Service

_**A/N: Hang onto your hats, B/J shippers...I'm afraid the waters are not running smoothly just yet. Be warned - Brian's in for some major angst still. If you're looking for a quick conclusion, I have to go with my gut and it's telling me it's going to be a while. But hang in there - it WILL get better eventually...Just another caution - if you can't handle some competition for Justin for a while, bail out now - LOL! You've been warned...**_

* * *

_Pittsburgh – Same Day – Michael and Ben's House_

Brian splashed some hot water on his face and wiped it off with a nearby towel. As he slowly raised his head to peek at himself in the mirror, he was startled by the haunted, sunken-eyed face peering back at him. He barely recognized the visage; but two days of pretty much no sleep had transformed the normally confident and cocky, well-put-together executive into a shadow of his normal self. He knew, though, that if he had stayed at the loft these past couple of days there would have been no way he could have slept in his own bed; just the thought of going back to the loft at all right now was unbearable. He knew everywhere he looked, everything he touched, would remind him of _him. _His smell, his laughter, his warm body spooned against him early in the mornings, even those damn exotic dishes he always felt compelled to experiment on Brian with. He and Justin had pretty much fucked and/or made love on every available surface there by now; there was _no way_ he could step foot in there at the moment, if _ever_. In fact, he was seriously considering selling the place. He was actually torn between never wanting to see the fucking loft again and never parting with it because it held so many wonderful memories…..memories of the man he loved. _Had _loved.

God…His throat constricted painfully and he felt like he had a golf ball stuck there. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tightly, as if that might somehow close out his pain as well. But he knew it was no use. To have been talking to Justin one minute, then to have his heart ripped away without so much as a chance to say _goodbye_…..He furiously wiped his hands over his face roughly, almost as if he could erase the past few days from his mind. _If only he could…._

_No regrets. _Bullshit. Right now he had _plenty_ of them. Regret over not convincing Justin when he asked him to marry him that he _meant_ it. Regret that he had not spent more time showing and telling him how much he _loved_ him. Regret that when Justin DID move to New York, he had not found a way to pick up his fucking business and move there WITH him. Regret that they had spent the last year apart when they should have been, could have been _together_. Regret after regret after regret…..

"Brian?" Michael pounded on the bathroom door as he heard a loud bang and a crash. "What's going on in there?" he demanded urgently. When he didn't get an immediate response, he yanked on the doorknob and was immensely relieved to find it unlocked. Hurriedly opening it, he looked in to see Brian slumped on the floor, sitting cross-legged with his back against the bathtub, his hands in his head and his elbows on his knees. The small mirror over the sink was cracked where Brian had rammed his fist into it, which was bleeding freely from the numerous cuts and scratches it had sustained.

"Fuck, Brian!" Michael cried angrily. "What the hell are you _doing_?" He immediately reached for a towel and knelt beside the other man to tie the cloth tightly against his hand to staunch the profuse bleeding. Brian simply raised his head slowly at the sound of his friend's voice and explained brokenly, "I'm trying to stop the fucking _pain_." His eyes were red-rimmed with the tears that trickled down his cheeks unabated.

Michael looked up briefly as Ben appeared in the doorway, face filled with concern. At Michael's small shake of his head, indicating it was okay (at least as okay as it could be under the circumstances), Ben nodded with a small, sympathetic smile, whispering, "If you need anything…," and left.

Michael was actually at a loss as to what to do for Brian – the one thing he needed most in the world Michael couldn't give him. But he _could_ give him what he had _always_ given him – his _friendship_ and his _love_. "I know," he whispered softly, as he pulled the heartbroken, trembling man to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. "I know you're in pain…..so much fucking pain. And I am so sorry, Brian. But this isn't the way to handle it, and you know it. This isn't what _he_ would want, either." He didn't dare say Justin's name to him – every mention of his name was met by the other man with a look of intense, wrenching pain that looked like a knife had pierced clear through to his heart – the heart he had previously never wanted to acknowledge he even _had_, but was now torn irrevocably.

"We need you," Michael told him firmly, evoking a small snort of muffled disbelief from the other man. "It's true," he insisted. "You've been such a good friend, Brian, to _all_ of us, when we needed help. Let us pay YOU back now. Let us be there for YOU." Michael felt helpless – Brian was so lost at the moment, he hardly recognized the man he had loved as a brother for so long. He struggled to think of something, _anything_, to say that would somehow get through to him now.

"Your son…Gus," he pressed. "Your son loves you and he _needs_ you, too, Brian. You have to be there for him."

The response he received from his friend was sudden and unexpected. "God! What am I going to _tell_ him, Mikey?" Brian cried as he looked at Michael in obvious distress. "What am I going to tell _Gus? _He doesn't KNOW! He doesn't fucking know about…" He couldn't finish the sentence…..he couldn't say the name…it was all too _final_.

"I know," Michael murmured soothingly. He had taken on the horrible responsibility of phoning Mel and Lindsey last night with the shocking news about Justin's death; both women were obviously distraught over Michael's call and had decided, at least for now, that they would wait for Brian to determine how to tell his son about the other man who Gus had happily started calling "Poppa." Gus' _other dad._ He swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his eyes briefly, trying to compose himself for his friend's sake. He could only imagine, as J.R.'s dad, how his death might affect his daughter; he knew it would be the same for Gus with Justin. There would be no easy way to tell him that the man he had shared so many happy moments with would never be coming to see him again. But he also knew there was really only one person who could tell him in a way that would minimize his pain as much as possible – his father. The two of them shared a unique bond as father and son that no one else did.

"Brian….." he said to the other man urgently and pressed his hands into the other's back as emphasis to hopefully make sure he was listening to him. "I think you need to get away for a few days." He heard the other man laugh at the ridiculous notion that leaving Pittsburgh would somehow lessen his pain and make things better. "No, I _mean_ it," as he finally loosened his hold on the brunet and moved one hand to gently lift his chin so he could look at him directly in the eyes. Brian sniffled a little and wiped his nose against the makeshift bandage on his arm. "Go up to Canada. See your son. Talk to him. BE with him. You will know what to say when you see him. Despite what you think, you've always had the capacity to say just the right thing to him when he needed you. Tell him about…..the two of you. Tell him that he – and YOU – will see him again someday. I know you may think that's bullshit, but I really do believe that, Brian."

Brian turned his head away slightly. "You mean _heaven_, Mikey?" he snorted. "Well, I've seen hell now, so maybe _heaven_ actually exists, too." He huffed a quiet breath and exhaled deeply, trying to get his rapidly beating heart back to a more normal pace. He looked at the mirror that he had broken in numerous pieces. _Definitely hell_.

He finally looked back at his friend, who was quietly studying him as he waited for the other man's answer. Perhaps Mikey was right. Everything here in Pittsburgh only served to remind him of one person – Justin. Babylon, the diner, the loft, _everywhere_. And he really did want to see his son – his little boy was maybe the only person who really did still need him now. At least he'd like to think so.

Sighing, he leaned down to briefly brush a tender kiss on the other man's lips before murmuring, "You're a good friend, Mikey. Love you….always have….."

"Always will," the other man instantly completed the mantra for him. "Okay," Brian finally replied, taking a short puff of breath and letting it out. As he slowly rose from the floor, Mikey declared sternly, "let me see that hand again." As he gradually pulled the bloody towel away from the brunet's hand, he sucked in his breath. "Shit, Brian. You really did a number on your hand. We'd better get some antibiotic and a bandage on that. At least it looks like it's stopped bleeding now," he observed.

"Yes, Nurse," Brian responded dutifully, actually smirking slightly; for just a second, there was a brief glimmer of his normal self. He sat down on the toilet seat as Michael rummaged in the bathroom vanity for the bandage and tube of antibiotic. As Michael tended to his damaged hand, Brian flipped open his phone to call Kinnetik.

"Theodore? I need you to do a couple of things for me. Tell Cynthia to book me on the first available flight tomorrow to Canada." To Ted's apparent question, he confirmed, "Yes, I'm going to visit Gus." He listened to Ted reciting his request back to him before continuing, "Yeah – that's right. The other thing I want you to do is close Babylon indefinitely. Yes, you heard me right. _Close it._"

Michael looked over at him, bewildered. He knew that Ted was perfectly capable of overseeing the club while Brian was gone. Why, then, did he need it closed while he was in Canada? "I want you to start the remodelers on the changes I mentioned to you last month. I've been wanting to revamp it, and now's a good time to do it while I'm gone. When I get back, I don't want to be able to recognize one fucking inch of the place, do you understand?" he barked, before slapping the phone shut and closing his eyes.

Now Michael understood the reason why, and why Brian didn't want to see it the way it was now. Far too many memories. Memories of a certain blond.

"There," Michael declared. "That should take care of it. You're lucky you didn't do any major damage. I think it'll heal if you leave it alone."

"Maybe feeling this pain will help some of the other kind go away," he whispered. He finally stood up and turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Mikey asked him gently. He didn't want his friend to think he was shadowing his every move, but he was too afraid at this point that Brian would still consider doing something like what he pulled the night of Justin's prom. In an odd way, that was actually _minor_ compared to this. At least then Justin had eventually healed for the most part. This time, there would be no chance of that. The one who needed to heal now was standing in front of him. The question, though, was whether it was even _possible_.

Brian stood just outside the bathroom door. That was a good question. Just where _was _he going? He needed to grab some clothes for his trip but he definitely couldn't face going back to the loft to get them. And he didn't have enough extra clothes at Kinnetik to take care of what he would need.

"Mikey….." he began.

"I'll take care of it," his friend assured him. "Why don't you go downstairs and keep Ben company for a while? It shouldn't take me long."

Brian nodded, following Michael down the stairs. "I'm going to run over to Brian's to pick up a few things," he told his mate, who nodded his understanding. Michael would be forever grateful to Ben for his ability to accept his odd type of friendship with Brian; he knew that if he had stayed with David, the other man never could have done so.

Michael picked up the keys to his and Ben's SUV and left the house, secure that his friend would be kept safe during his absence.

* * *

_Harrisburg – Calhoun Street Apartment_

Andrew opened the door to his apartment and heard an unfamiliar sound. Something mechanical. "Jacob?" he called, as he placed the package he was holding down on the coffee table.

"I'm in here," he heard the other man yell over the din coming from the kitchen.

"'What are you _doing_ in there? Drilling for oil?" he asked, as he walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. There were pots, pans, utensils, and flour _everywhere._ He stared, amused , at the blond man holding onto a portable mixer presently stirring up something off-white colored in a large plastic bowl. "Find any gushers yet?" he asked, chuckling.

"Very funny," Justin retorted. "Well, don't just _stand_ there…..come over here and hold onto the mixer for me so I can get a couple of eggs out of the refrigerator," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," he responded promptly, shrugging off his doctor's coat and draping it over a nearby chair. Looking at the batter swirling precariously in the large bowl, he asked Justin skeptically, "Are you sure you know how to operate that thing? I don't think it's been out of the cupboard since I moved here and someone gave it to me as a housewarming present. The microwave's about the most advanced I get when it comes to cooking," he informed the other man.

"Well, it's about time you became acquainted with more _technical_ appliances then," Justin replied, nodding his head toward the bowl. "Hurry up – I have to get the eggs in while it's still going."

Eyeing the contraption warily, Andrew finally moved to within grasping distance of the object as he placed his hand directly above the blond's to hold onto the gadget. Again, he felt a momentary jolt of electricity when their hands connected, before Justin removed his slender one and left the doctor now precariously holding onto the vibrating mixer by himself. "Hurry up," he exclaimed, as he watched the two beaters turning furiously. As he took his eyes off the mixer long enough to turn and see what was taking Justin so long, the blond cried, "Look out!" as batter suddenly flew everywhere.

"Shit!" Andrew growled, as he watched streams of thick, gooey batter being thrown all around the compact kitchen; he noticed splotches landing on the backsplash, the stove, and the sink, just to name a few. "Put it back in the bowl!" Justin demanded, just before several globs splattered onto him as he was hurrying back as fast as he could with the two eggs he had retrieved from the refrigerator; the blond's hair and face received a direct hit before he finally, exasperated, yanked the cord from the outlet to turn the mixer off.

The two men looked at each other, stunned, for several seconds. Justin noted with consternation that his roommate mysteriously looked quite clean for someone who had managed to practically assault him with the instrument he now held up in his hand; the batter slowly dripped down from the two beaters and into the bowl, which had now been practically forgotten.

Andrew tried earnestly to keep from laughing at the sight in front of him; a clearly annoyed blond man with beige-colored splotches all over his face, hair, and neck who stood there with two eggs in one hand and the other one on his hip, annoyed.

Justin finally quipped, "I hope being a doctor doesn't require you to perform any operations."

Ignoring the implied criticism, Andrew instead answered innocently, "Well….._that _went well, wouldn't you say?" He pursed his lips together but finally couldn't help the laughter from escaping his lips; the other man just looked too totally funny and absolutely adorable with his turned-down lips and look of disgust.

Justin's pout eventually turned into a smile, than a grin. "Well, at least you can't say I don't get deeply involved with my hobbies," he replied.

"What _was_ it, anyway?" Andrew asked him.

"It was _supposed_ to be French vanilla cake," he informed the other man. "That is – before I decided to _wear_ it instead." He twisted his mouth. "I must look like a fucking mess," he stated ruefully, as he looked down at his neck and clothes now stained with sticky cake batter.

"Actually, you look quite adorable wearing cake," The comment slipped from Andrew's lips before he could stop himself. He also couldn't prevent himself from slowly reaching out and swiping a smudge of vanilla batter from Justin's cheek; placing it on his finger, he sucked the sweet concoction off in his mouth and declared, "Delicious."

Justin nervously licked his lips, an action which did not go unnoticed by the other man. The air was suddenly thick with tension as they both stood there, transfixed. "Jacob….."Andrew began tentatively. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say to the other man, but he was beginning to realize the pull he felt for him was growing stronger with each passing day.

He heard Justin clear his throat self-consciously before saying, "I'd better clean this mess up and change clothes."

"Uh, yeah," Andrew said shakily. He took a calming breath before adding, "Do you want some help with this?"

Justin laughed softly. "No, I think you've provided quite _enough_ help already," as Andrew smiled now, the previous discomfort temporarily forgotten.

"Well, I'll go get changed while you're cleaning up here."

He turned to go just as Justin advised him, "By the way, I _did_ manage to fix us some dinner before you decided to turn the kitchen into a combat zone," he teased, drawing a look of righteous indignation from the brunet. "It should be ready in about ten minutes."

Andrew paused briefly as he turned around to face his roommate. "I don't want you to feel like you need to fix me something to eat all the time," he advised him. "In fact, you are not being the most _cooperative_ patient. I could have sworn I told you to take it easy," he chided him gently.

"I don't think throwing some cut-up chicken and a can of cream of mushroom soup into a casserole dish is really strenuous exercise," he retorted, now placing _both_ of his hands on his hips. "Maybe slapping the pieces of garlic bread down on a baking sheet would qualify, though."

"I stand corrected," Andrew responded with a grin. "I think you were a _comedian_ before your injury, NOT a chef after all." He turned and walked into his bathroom, this time not waiting for another witty repartee from his roommate. He had to admit – since Jacob had come here, he had certainly provided several moments of levity, whether intentional or not. He was certainly a much more enjoyable roommate than his previous one had been. Don Maxwell had been too busy trying to climb the corporate medical ladder to lighten up and have some fun; for someone in his late twenties, the man was as serious as the proverbial heart attack. And he wasn't nearly as cute as his current roommate.

As he took his dress shirt off and ran a wet facecloth over his face to try and freshen up a little, his thoughts focused on the blond currently scurrying around in his kitchen, cleaning up the mess he had made and getting dinner ready for them. He marveled at the complexity of the human brain – Jacob still couldn't remember much of his life before his injury, and yet he could remember how to fix a meal. As he thought about what other undisclosed talents the man may possess, he abruptly recalled the package he had brought home. He had picked the contents up on the way to the apartment, thinking that they may provide his roommate with something enjoyable to pass the time while he anxiously awaited his trip to Pittsburgh on Saturday. He decided to wait, however, until they had eaten their dinner before presenting Jacob with the gift.

As he donned a casual, long-sleeved black tee shirt and dark blue jeans, he quickly ran his fingers through his hair; as he walked barefoot back into the open living room/kitchen area, he saw his roommate, who was standing by the table, do a sort of double take. "Something wrong, Jacob?" he asked, concerned.

Justin shook his head slightly. "No….no pain," he assured the doctor. "It was just one of those _moments _again."

"You mean where you think you remember something, but you're not sure what?"

"Yeah," he answered thoughtfully. "When you came out just now….in that outfit, with no shoes on…..it reminded me of someone I think I know," he informed the other man. He scrunched his face up in frustration. "As usual, though, I can't put my finger on it. Damn!" he snarled. "I am so fucking _tired_ of this! Why can't I remember?" he cried, helplessly, placing both hands on his forehead in a sign of disgust.

Andrew looked at the younger man sympathetically as he walked up and placed his hands on the other man's shoulders. "I know this is the _last_ thing you want to hear, Jacob, but you have to give it _time_. I remind you again – it's only been a few _days_. I think based on the amount of information you're beginning to remember after such a short time, that's actually a very promising sign."

"You really think so?" Justin asked him hopefully, unconvinced.

Andrew gave the slender shoulders a reassuring squeeze as he looked directly into the mesmerizing blue eyes. "Yes, I do," he reassured him with a smile. His optimistic tone, however, turned serious as he felt compelled to be honest with the other man. "I mean that," he assured him. "But, Jacob…..I feel obligated as a doctor – and as your friend – to be totally honest with you. You may remember what happened before – all or part of it – but then again, you may not. However your injury occurred, you sustained a _severe_ trauma to your head – the same area you somehow injured once before. That is going to make it difficult to ascertain whether or not you'll be able to regain all or part of your memory. I don't want to discourage you, but I don't want to _lie_ to you, either. You need to be prepared for either possibility," he advised the blond gently.

Justin nodded glumly. "I know," he confirmed softly. "But surely the dreams I've been having means I'm making progress, don't they? I _know_ they're not just dreams – they actually happened. I already know this _Babylon Club_ exists, and the explosion I dreamed about DID occur," he pointed out. "That must account for _something_. And I intend to find this _Brian_ that seems to occupy all of my dreams. He's GOT to be real, too," he insisted strongly.

Andrew gazed at the other man intensely; his passion for what the other man believed in was very captivating. He hoped that this same passion would help Jacob persevere through his current situation and finally figure out who he was and where he belonged. He couldn't help wishing silently to himself, however, that there might just be some place in Jacob's life for _him_ once he DID recover his memory.

"I think you're right," he told the other man aloud. "We'll hopefully find out something Saturday in Pittsburgh."

Justin's heart beat faster at the thought of his upcoming trip; surely this would help provide the key to his memory that he so desperately was seeking. "I sure hope so," he told Andrew fervently. He noticed that the other man was still gently grasping his shoulders as he now also rubbed his thumbs up and down in an absentminded caress.

Justin broke away gently, saying, "Our dinner should be ready if you want to take a seat." He turned to grab an oven mitt as he opened the door and pulled out first the chicken in mushroom sauce and then the pieces of garlic bread. He placed them both on top of the stove and scooped two generous portions onto a couple of nearby plates, adding a piece of the bread to them, also. He opened the fridge to retrieve the bowl of mixed salad he had placed there earlier, and placed in on the table in the center.

As he set one of the dinner plates in front of his and Andrew's seats, the doctor replied, "I could get used to having my breakfast and dinner ready every day when I get home," he softly confided. "This looks delicious….almost as delicious as the cake batter you were wearing earlier," he teased, recalling the sweet taste of the batter he had licked off his finger earlier that had occupied a temporary home on the blond's cheek. _I wonder how sweet his LIPS would taste_. The thought came unbidden into his mind as he realized he was staring intently at his roommate, who he noticed blushed in reaction.

Taking a bite of the chicken, he nodded in confirmation. "This IS good, Jacob," he praised the other man, who beamed in response to the compliment. "Something _else_ smells good, too," he observed. "New cologne?" he joked.

Justin smirked. "Hardly. Although for a while, I was beginning to _think_ so when I was wearing it. It's actually the French vanilla cake that's still baking."

Andrew was impressed. "You mean you were actually able to _salvage_ the batter from my earlier fiasco?"

Justin nodded. "You mean your _batter-y and _assault?" he joked. "Yeah. I think I WAS a chef before. After the disaster YOU left me with, it's the only possible explanation."

Andrew laughed. "Well, I'll keep with medicine, and I'll let you handle the culinary tasks, if that's okay with you. As long as you don't overexert yourself," he again warned the other man.

* * *

Andrew had to admit – the meal had been totally enjoyable, from the actual food that was prepared to the thoroughly entertaining dinner guest he enjoyed it _with_. As they finished placing the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, Andrew remembered his previous errand. "Come and sit down on the couch," he asked the other man, who wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel and followed him into the living room.

Andrew retrieved the nondescript, brown package from the coffee table and, sitting down next to Justin, placed it in his hands.

Justin frowned. "What's this?" The package was quite large and bulky.

Andrew smiled. "Open it," he said simply, watching the other man for his reaction.

As Andrew nodded in encouragement, Justin did as he was instructed, slowly ripping the paper away from the contents to reveal what was inside: a large sketchpad and several assorted artist's supplies, including professional graphite pencils and colored pencils. Underneath the sketchpad, also, were two blank painting canvases and a variety of oil-based paints, horsehair brushes, and a palette.

Andrew noticed the other man's eyes light up with excitement as he looked over all the supplies. "You like it?" he asked him, entranced by the way his entire face seemed to glow as he almost reverently touched each item that was in the package.

"It's…._amazing_," he said in awe. "How did you know I like to draw?" he asked the other man in wonder.

"Well…..You might say it was an educated guess. I sort of have a confession to make," he admitted to the other man, who looked at him curiously. "The other day – when you had to have those tests?" Justin nodded in remembrance before the doctor continued. "While you were waiting to go back, I saw you with that little girl in the children's wing. I noticed how much you seemed to enjoy helping her draw her picture. I was close enough to come up behind the two of you and take a peek. I was absolutely _amazed_ by what you drew." Justin flushed at the compliment before Andrew commented flatly, "Forget the jokes about you being a chef before. I think you must have been some kind of artist, Jacob. No one with the kind of talent I saw in that drawing could possibly let it go to waste."

Justin furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, desperately trying to command his brain to function properly and confirm what Andrew had just said. _WAS_ he correct? Was that what he had been before the injury? He couldn't quite understand his body's nervous, excited reaction to Andrew's gift, but upon seeing what the package contained, there was no mistaking the feeling of familiarity that instantly went through him. He didn't understand any of it, but he DID know instinctively that Andrew was right – he had a unique talent when it came to creating works of art. He could just feel his hands itching to get immersed with the paint, to feel the pencils in his hands as he urgently transferred the images he saw onto paper or canvas. He couldn't _wait_ to get started.

He looked at Andrew with his face alight. "Thank you," he said softly. "This is _wonderful_," he whispered, as the other man smiled.

"I'm glad," Andrew simply answered. "At least it will give you something to do during the day when I'm at work. That is, besides getting recipes splattered all over yourself," he teased.

"Ha, ha…..It seems like I was doing just fine before someone _else_ decided to join in. How about your motto to stick to medicine and I'll stick to cooking?"

Andrew chuckled. "It's a deal." Glancing at the clock, he regretfully advised the other man, "I better get to sleep. I have an early schedule tomorrow." He noticed that his roommate hadn't taken his eyes off the art supplies as he spoke to him – he was totally entranced by the gift. "You can stay up for a while," he told the other man. "But don't forget – you still need a lot of rest. Your body still needs to heal," he gently chided him. "And don't hesitate to call me if you need anything, okay?"

Justin regretfully tore his eyes away from the art supplies and turned to look at Andrew, who had now stood up to get ready for bed. "Okay," he responded, his hands still lingering almost lovingly on the various supplies now spread out all over the coffee table. "I…..guess I'd better get to bed, too, then," he reluctantly decided. The art supplies could wait until tomorrow, he decided grudgingly.

As Andrew nodded in a silent bid of _good night_, he heard Justin calling his name softly. "Andrew?" He looked over at the blond, who was now standing by his open bedroom door. "Thank you. For taking care of me, and for the gift. I don't know what I would have done without you these past couple of days," he admitted sincerely.

Andrew smiled gently. Jacob wasn't the _only_ one who had benefited from their arrangement. "You're welcome," he responded in return before slowly opening his door and closing it softly behind him, his thoughts once again dwelling on the troubled but beautiful man preparing for sleep in the other room.


	11. Chapter 11: Haunted

_Thursday Morning – Pittsburgh International Airport_

Brian hefted the carryon bag onto his shoulder as he glanced up at the departure screen; his plane to Toronto was running a few minutes late, which gave him just enough time to make a quick call.

"Ted? Did the construction crew show up on time this morning? Make sure they know I'm paying them to _complete_ the job, NOT by the fucking hour. And it had better be done when I get back," he growled, "or they can kiss that bonus I promised them down the toilet." He slammed the phone shut, not even waiting for the other man's response. He didn't care _how _much more he had to pay them to get the job done; if he could come back to the Pitts and find Babylon completed remodeled and totally unrecognizable, it would be worth every outrageous penny. He hadn't even stepped into the club since the accident; every surface there would just remind him of _him_. The two of them had had far too many memories there – yes, some bad, some even painful. But most of them had been absolutely _unforgettable_. That was actually the problem – he couldn't fucking _forget. _ He never wanted to forget the man behind the memories – that was impossible, anyway. But for just a while, he wanted to ease the pain of his absence.

He wasn't sure how he felt about seeing his son – truth be told, he had always looked forward to seeing Gus, despite what he might have led others to believe. But that was _before_. Before this week. Before the event that destroyed his entire world, and would soon turn his son's upside down as well. For as much as Gus worshipped his father, he also _adored_ his _Poppa_. Gus' little-boy exuberance and Justin's child-like joy for life were a perfect mesh, whether they were working on drawings together, watching the same cartoons, swinging on the swings at the nearby park, or simply playing quietly with his son's Lincoln logs. Justin had always made sure to spend a significant amount of time with Gus – often just the two of them – and he was the first person Gus asked about after greeting his Dad. Justin would have made a great dad – WAS a great dad, actually – to his son.

Again, Brian felt the piercing stab to his heart at the use of the past tense in thinking about Justin. Even now, his brain was registering that Justin was gone, dead, but his heart stubbornly refused to admit it. _God, why couldn't this all be a fucking bad dream? _He was thankfully distracted from yet another painful rehashing of what had happened a few days ago by the announcement that his plane was now boarding. He was grateful, too, that his flight only took 90 minutes. If he had had his way, he would have literally drunk his way from the moment he left Pittsburgh until he reached Toronto to try and numb the pain, but he knew he wouldn't because of his son. At least he would only have an hour and a half to be alone with his thoughts – thoughts that would be concentrating on a particular man and just what he was going to tell his son about him now. He remembered the only time he had given any thought to prayer was when Michael had been injured after the bombing, and Justin had somehow miraculously emerged from the same horrifying event relatively unscathed. Now, though, as he slowly walked toward the plane, for the second time in his life, he prayed that somehow he would find a way to say the right words to his son, and perhaps more importantly, find a way to ease the aching, never ending pain he was feeling.

* * *

_Harrisburg General Hospital – Same Day - Morning_

"Good Morning, Dr. Bradley," Michelle greeted Andrew as he approached the nurse's station. "How's my favorite patient doing?" She smiled a little as she could have sworn a slight blush suddenly appeared on the young doctor's face at the mention of his roommate.

"Uh…._favorite patient_?" he answered vaguely. "I thought ALL the patients were supposed to be your favorites."

"Don't play ignorant, Doctor, you _know_ who I mean…….Jacob? Cute little blond with the baby blue eyes? The one who happens to be living with you right now? Ring any bells?" she teased. She didn't normally act so casual with a doctor, but Andrew had always been so down-to-earth and easy to talk to that she felt comfortable participating in some good-natured bantering with him.

"Oh…..THAT patient," he said grinning. "He's……doing okay under the circumstances." At the nurse's questioning expression, he explained, "Physically, he's pretty much healed. At least on the _outside._ But inside his brain everything is still pretty muddled."

She sobered at his statement. "You think he may never regain his memory?"

He blew a small breath out in thought. "Hard to tell," he informed her. "I'm certainly not an expert when it comes to neurology by any means, but I know enough to know that the brain is a very intricate, complicated organ. There's still so much we don't know. He _has_ been having some dreams that I think are ground in his memory, which is a hopeful sign, I guess." He tilted his head and leaned in toward her. "He had a dream that he was at some club in Pittsburgh the other night," he confided in her. "And he did some research and discovered an event he thought he participated in DID, in fact, occur pretty much the way he dreamed it."

She raised her eyebrows. "That's promising, isn't it?" she asked him. She really had liked the personable young man she had tended to for such a short time, and was hopeful he would recover fully.

"I think so," Andrew replied. "Jacob certainly thinks so. I told him if he could wait until Saturday I would drive him there so we could check it out. Hopefully that will provide some type of breakthrough. for him."

"Do you think it's wise for him to self-treat himself like that?" she asked pointedly. While she was certainly not an expert when it came to the brain, either, she had been a nurse for over twenty years and had been witness to several occasions where one of her patients decided to diagnose and/or treat themselves with disastrous results; she did not want Jacob to be one of them.

Andrew let out a worried sigh; he had pretty voiced the same concern to Jacob already. "To be honest, I don't know," he finally answered. "I've read and been told that sometimes you have to trigger the memory to help regain it. But each person is different, and each _situation_ is different. If it makes you feel any better, I'll confer with Dr. Michaels before we leave Saturday to get his opinion. If he thinks it's a bad idea, I'll have the distinct _pleasure_ of telling that to Jacob," he said sarcastically. He had no doubt what his roommate's reaction would be if that turned out to be the case, and it definitely wouldn't be a pleasant one.

Michelle laughed softly. "I'll leave that _privilege _up to you if it comes to that," she said. "Something tells me Jacob wouldn't be too thrilled by that decision."

"No, I don't think so, either," Andrew agreed, smiling softly. He had only known Jacob for a few days, but he already felt like he knew the man's personality quite well. He had a feeling that his roommate could be quite the independent, stubborn sort, at least when he didn't get his way.

He glanced up behind the nurse at the clock and noticed to his consternation that he running late; ever since Jacob had come into his life, it seemed like he was _always_ running late now. "I've got to go," he announced, as he picked up a nearby chart and turned to leave.

"Tell Jacob I said hello," Michelle asked as Andrew nodded in acknowledgement. As the nurse watched the doctor rush off, she thought to herself with a knowing smile, _You're NOT fooling me doctor – I think I know a man who's been hooked, and you're in deep, fella – hook, line and sinker._

* * *

_Calhoun Street Apartment_

Justin tried to suppress yet another yawn as he finished washing the rest of the breakfast dishes. Despite Andrew's insistence that he not play cook for him, Justin felt it was the least he could do after all the other man had done for him. He had even loaned Justin some of his smaller-sized clothes to wear temporarily; after all, he had had only one change of clothes when he had been brought into the hospital, and they had literally been the ones on his back. While Andrew's clothes were fairly baggy on him, Justin had managed to cuff enough of the extra length to at least make them somewhat presentable.

He had had yet another restless, fitful slumber last night; he tossed and turned throughout the night. And again, the same, dark-haired, sexy man occupied his dreams. Even now, he could still hear the rich, husky tone of the man's voice as he spoke tenderly to him. He desperately hoped that the man would somehow call out his name during the course of one of his dreams, but so far he had been totally thwarted; he remembered the man calling him _Sunshine_ the other night_._ Surely that wasn't his _real_ name? Even so, he wondered how in the world he had been given that name. It seemed like such an odd nickname, especially for a man; but in his dream, he had reacted to it as if it were the most normal name in the world.

He replayed the most vivid dream of last night in his head as he wiped his hands on a nearby rag and walked over to the couch to sit down. Unlike the horrific dream of the other night, when he was surrounded by death, pain, and mayhem, this one was totally different. He and that same man were together again, but this time they appeared to be in a house. And it wasn't just _any_ house – this one was absolutely awe-inspiring in its impressiveness. It had high ceilings and walls drenched in dark, luxurious hardwood. It was an absolute _mansion_, the kind that a celebrity might live in. In the first part of his dream, he and the other man were lying, nude, in front of a roaring fireplace, making love. The tanned, dark-haired man was leaning over him and looking at him with the most loving, tender expression on his face as he slowly and gently kissed him. The other man caressed him _everywhere_ as he smiled softly at him. It seemed like time had stood still and they had all the time in the world as the man _worshipped_ him with his lips, his hands, and his eyes. Justin shivered even now as he thought about the intense looks the other man had been giving him; it made him feel like the most cherished man in the world. After they had made love for what seemed like an eternity, they had fallen asleep in each other's arms in front of the fire.

In the second part of his dream, it looked like morning. He and the other man appeared to be in the same house still, but this time they weren't engaging in languorous, tender lovemaking. This time, they were out and out _fucking _frantically _- _fucking in the shower, on top of the kitchen counter, on the dining room table, in the bedroom on the plush rug, against the refrigerator, even on the staircase, and in every conceivable position. And when they weren't fucking, they were giving each other unbelievable blowjobs that had them both climaxing multiple times over what appeared to be several hours of activity. Justin blushed even now as he relived their heart-stopping, aggressive, almost _violent_ multiple couplings. He and this man obviously knew each other so intimately that they realized instinctively how to derive the most pleasure from each other, and just what drove each other crazy in a heartbeat; it was readily apparent in their mutual moans of pleasure and cries of ecstasy that were torn from their lips. Afterward, as their sweat-slicked bodies lay shoulder to shoulder, their hair pasted to their foreheads from the exertion, they both sought to control their rapidly beating hearts as they panted breathlessly in unison. He closed his eyes briefly, however, and groaned as he recalled that he was unexpectedly jolted awake just before it appeared the man was about to catch his breath and speak to him again.

"Damn it!" he cried to himself in frustration, as his eyes welled up with tears. Who WAS this man that kept invading his every dream at night? And where WAS he? Was he dreaming about him, too? Did he go to bed at night aching to hold him in his arms as Justin did? He hugged his arms around his body, trying to imagine how it would feel to be lying in bed, spooned against the man's long, lean, warm body.

He sighed in sadness. With Andrew gone to the hospital, the apartment was especially quiet and lonely. His eyes fell upon the sketchbook and pencils that the other man had purchased for him yesterday. He had been touched by the other man's thoughtfulness and generosity; and while he was grateful for the Andrew's friendship and companionship, he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he discovered who this hauntingly familiar man was who possessed his dreams at night.

He reached over to pick up the sketchpad and opened the cover. Balancing it on his knees, he retrieved one of the charcoal pencils and began to tentatively reconstruct the face that belonged to the man in his dreams. As he continued to draw, his hands moved over the paper as if he were in a trance, his pink tongue darting out slightly in concentration. Periodically, he would close his eyes to try and hone in on a particular feature of the man to try and make his drawing as accurate as possible before resuming his work.

Finally, after a couple of hours, he placed his pencil down and gazed at the man staring back at him with a penetrating look. The man's slightly tousled, dark hair fell softly over his forehead as his large, dramatic eyes peered intently back at him. He had been drawn from the chest up, and was wearing a black, sleeveless, wifebeater shirt, the top two buttons casually undone, offering just a touch of his toned chest beneath. Justin placed his slim hands over the man's chest, imagining how it might feel to actually be able to _touch_ the warm, soft skin exposed there. His hands clenched into fists as he again felt the waves of helplessness and frustration bubbling up inside of him. _Who ARE you? Help me find you_, he pleaded silently.

Just then, he was distracted by the sound of the front door opening. Glancing up, he noticed Andrew entering. "Hey, Jacob," he greeted the blond amiably.

Justin was startled temporarily. "Hey," he answered in turn. "Is is lunchtime already?" He turned around to look at the clock and was surprised to see that it was, indeed, almost 1:00.

"Yep," Andrew confirmed as he walked toward Justin curiously; he noticed the sketchpad he had purchased for his roommate was open on the coffee table and that Jacob had been drawing in it. "Can I see?" he asked tentatively, extremely interested in seeing what the younger man had sketched.

Justin was inexplicably bashful all of a sudden; he wasn't sure if he wanted to share the man of his dreams with anyone, even the man who had been his lifeline lately. Reluctantly, however, he nodded imperceptibly as he pushed the sketchpad toward the other man, who had taken a seat next to him.

As Andrew picked up the sketchpad to peer at Jacob's work, he was stunned. He had thought the house Jacob had drawn before was terrific, but that drawing paled in comparison next to this masterpiece. The handsome man peering back at him was at once both formidable but also vulnerable somehow. He was stunning in an elegant, classic way but was dressed casually and wore his hair in an almost haphazard way. The most mesmerizing part of this man, however, was the eyes – dark, piercing ones that seemed to look clear to your very soul. Without asking him, Andrew knew this _had_ to be the man who had been occupying Jacob's dreams at night. For a few moments, Andrew felt a stab of jealously over this other, as-yet-to-be-named stranger who had so captivated his friend's visions and, quite possibly, his heart as well.

Justin looked over at Andrew nervously, waiting for his reaction. Andrew's mouth hung open slightly as he continued to stare at the drawing. Finally, he answered softly, "Jacob…..This is _incredible._"

Justin bit his lip, still not totally convinced. "You really think so?" he asked the other man uncertainly.

"Are you _kidding_ me? This is fucking _unbelievable_. It's so real – almost as if the man is about to leap off the page." He looked over at the blond with considerable admiration and awe. He knew becoming a doctor had not been an easy task for him, but he also knew he would never have one _tenth_ of the innate talent this beautiful man sitting next to him obviously had.

Justin beamed now at the compliment. "Thanks," he said simply. As Andrew returned the sketchpad to him, Justin continued to stare at the man he had drawn. It was an extremely accurate likeness of the man in his visions; now all he had to do was _find_ him.

"Andrew," Justin whispered. "I _have_ to find this man. I know he's the key to finding out who I am."

Andrew bit back his disappointment. He had begun to hope that somehow Jacob would eventually develop the same feelings for him that he was beginning to feel. He knew deep down he was starting to fall hard for this creative and intelligent man. But he also knew that until Jacob found out who he was, and more importantly, who this mystery man was, he would never be free to reciprocate those same feelings for _him_.

"Andrew……." Justin began.

"Yes, Jacob?" the other man asked gently. He already knew what the other man was going to ask before he said it.

"Did you have a chance to talk to Dr. Michaels today? The neurologist?" The blue eyes peered at the other man anxiously.

Andrew sighed softly; he knew how important this trip was to Jacob. "Yes, I spoke to him," he confirmed.

"What did he say?" Justin asked urgently. "Can we go?"

Andrew looked at the other man waiting with great anticipation for his answer. "Yes," he said softly. "He said it would be okay as long as I'm with you. BUT….he told me the same thing I told you. If there is any sign of discomfort or trouble, you are to be checked out _immediately_ at the closest urgent care center or hospital and we are to abandon our trip right away. Do you understand, _Mr. Martin_?" he asked the other man pointedly. He still had an uneasy feeling about this, but he knew how much it meant to the other man.

Justin was elated. "Thank you!" he cried jubilantly, as he impulsively threw his arms around the other man's neck and hugged him.

Andrew was overwhelmed with the unexpectedness feeling of having Jacob's slender body melded against his. At first, he tentatively wrapped his arms around the other man's waist to return the embrace, but then held on to him more firmly. He relished the warmth of Jacob's skin and his soft, blond hair brushing against his face before Jacob evidently realized their position and slowly pushed himself away from the other man, embarrassed.

"I…..I'm sorry, Andrew," he said as he looked away awkwardly. He was just so excited about the prospect of perhaps finally finding out something about his identity that he let his enthusiasm get the better of him.

Andrew smiled reassuringly. "No harm done," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant while he tried to calm his quickly beating heart. Just the brief chance to hold the other man in his arms had caused his pulse to speed up and his body to go into overdrive with the sensation. His pants felt too tight from where the blood had rushed to a particular part of his anatomy, also; he was thankful that he had his jacket still on to hide the obvious hard-on that had suddenly appeared.

"Uh……" he stammered uncharacteristically. _How in the world does this man do THAT to him? He had never been this unsure before around anyone else. _He cleared his throat and stood up. "I'm going to grab me something to eat real fast and get back to the hospital," he stated as he walked into the kitchen, his back to the other man. He furiously tried to think of something clinical and totally boring in his head to try and curb his attraction to Jacob before it became obviously apparent to him. "Would you like a sandwich?"

"That sounds good," Justin responded. Unknown to him and despite losing his memory, the man's normal appetite was still very much intact. "I still feel bad about you taking care of me and buying everything. Surely there's _something_ I can do to earn a little spending money at least, and help pay some of the expenses around here," he insisted.

"You could peddle your ass," Andrew joked. _He certainly had a cute one,_ he thought silently as he looked over at Jacob. The blond, however, had one of those strange looks on his face again. "Jacob?"

Justin shook his head slightly, as if he were trying to reorder his brain to function properly. "It happened again," he said wincingly. "It was almost as if I had heard that before somewhere. I am getting _SO_ tired of this!" he exclaimed, his expression one of disgust.

Andrew looked at him sympathetically as he slathered some mayonnaise on a couple slices of bread. "I know," he replied softly. "Let's hope we'll find out something Saturday. In the meantime, why don't you keep drawing? I think that's a good way to try and jog your memory. And I think it can be very therapeutic."

Justin smiled. "Spoken like a true doctor, Mr. Bradley," he observed, as the man brought over two plates containing a ham and cheese sandwich with some potato chips and again sat down next to him. Thankfully, his _problem_ from before had now diminished.

"No, really," Andrew persisted. "I think it's a good way for you to try and retrieve some of your memories while at the same time helping your body to relax and heal. You could also, no doubt, use a long nap while I'm at work – I know you didn't sleep well last night."

"And how do you know that, _Doctor_," Justin pressed. "Why weren't _YOU_ asleep?"

"I…..I was worried about you," the older man admitted. "Besides, you were tossing and turning so much, I could practically hear it from the next room," he teased.

"I'm sorry if you didn't sleep well last night," Justin said sincerely. "Listen….if this isn't working out, I'm sure I can find some other place to stay until I can find a job or something."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jacob!" Andrew vehemently retorted. "It's really been no trouble. And I've told you….if I wasn't watching over you, you would undoubtedly wind up having to stay in the hospital while you're undergoing treatment. And you've already made it clear how much you hate hospitals."

"You're right there," Justin confessed. He wasn't really sure why he was opposed to them so adamantly, but he detested them with a passion for some reason. He would be forever grateful to Andrewfor allowing him to stay with him during this troubling time.

Andrew rose after several minutes and threw the now empty paper plate in the trash. "Duty calls," he said mockingly. "Another day, another sick patient," he pronounced with a smirk. "Don't forget," he admonished the other man. "Call me if there's any sign of a problem…..okay?"

"Yes, _Doctor_," he was reassured. "Go….I'll be okay."

As Andrew nodded and walked to the door, just before he went to open it he turned and peered over at the other man, who was once again absorbed in drawing yet another sketch of his mystery dream man, no doubt. _I hope you find what you're looking for, Jacob. Whatever that is,_ he thought, before quietly closing the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12: Looking for Answers

**_A/N: Okay, guys, here is the next chapter. I admit I'm struggling a little on this one. I feel your pain - it seems like this is kind of creeping along slowly for me, too. But I need to set up the story properly and this is the way my plot bunny is running right now. I hope you will bear with me until I can move it in the right direction....it's getting there but I need to set the background up first. I promise to get the two guys together shortly but it may be a few more chapters yet......thanks to all of you who are reviewing and/or following the story in the meantime!_**

* * *

_Thursday afternoon_

Brian opened his eyes at the sound of the stewardess signaling their impending arrival at Toronto Pearson International Airport. He hadn't actually been sleeping, however. Lately sleep was a very rare commodity for him. He had thought about popping a Valium that Michael had given him into his mouth once he had boarded the plane to try and force himself to sleep, but he had finally decided for the sake of his son he wouldn't. He knew he was about to have the most difficult discussion he would probably ever have with his son, and he needed to be as alert as possible for it. He just wished he knew how he was going to get through it; hell, he was still trying to come to terms with Justin's death himself, so he had no idea how he could possibly help his son cope with the loss, either.

A few minutes later, he was still agonizing over how to broach the subject as he ambled slowly up the ramp from the plane, at once looking forward to seeing Gus but also dreading it. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out to calm himself, he walked into the bustling terminal area and headed toward the security exit.

"Daddy!" a young voice shrieked nearby in delight, as a lanky, slender, dark-haired bomb launched himself toward Brian. The brunet hurriedly placed his carryon bag down on the carpet and kneeled down just before the smaller body jumped into his arms and wrapped the man in a strong bear hug as he nuzzled his head into his father's chest.

Brian's eyes filled abruptly with tears. He was so glad to see his son, but so afraid of what he was going to have to tell him. "Hey, Sonny Boy," he murmured lovingly against his son's head. "I've missed you," he admitted tenderly, wrapping one arm around the slender body to embrace it while reaching with his other hand to tousle the dark hair so like his own. As he caressed the soft hair, he couldn't help remembering how many times he had done the same thing to Justin's hair while they were making love. He had always loved to thread his hands through his partner's hair as an unspoken affirmation of his feelings. He knew that even before he could finally say the words out loud, Justin had already figured out how he felt simply by the way he touched him.

Brian continued to hold his son for several seconds, almost afraid to let him go. It was suddenly so important to just _hold _him, to make sure he was there with him, and that he was _real_. He was filled with so much remorse over all the things he hadn't said and done with Justin, and now it was too late. He never wanted the same thing to be said about him and his son. He finally loosened his hold enough so he could lean back a little to stare into the eyes so identical to his own.

"What _is_ it, Daddy?" Gus asked, frowning. "You look so sad," he stated with uncanny perception. "Aren't you glad to see me, Daddy?"

Brian tried to smile as much as he could through his glistening eyes. "I'm always glad to see you, Gus," he told the little boy soothingly.

"Then what _is_ it, Daddy?" the little boy repeated, his lips turning down into a pout so much like Justin's. Brian pressed his lips together tightly for a brief moment to try and prevent his eyes from watering up even more. Justin and Gus hadn't been related by blood, but at times their similarities to each other were so damn striking.

Brian glanced up over Gus' shoulders to see Mel and Lindsey standing nearby with J.R., both women on the verge of tears as well. Brian had already known this was going to be hard, but what little resolve he had was crumbling at the sight of Gus' two moms, who were trying desperately to hide their feelings as well but not being totally successful; their eyes reflecting the same utter loss that Brian was feeling.

Brian did not feel an impersonal airport was the best place to discuss Justin's death with Gus; the boy was going to have a hard enough time dealing with the concept without trying to help him understand it in the middle of a crowded, noisy airport terminal. Quickly making a decision, he looked up at the two women as he answered his son, "Why don't we get out of here, Sonny Boy? Have you had anything to eat for lunch yet?" he inquired, hoping to change the subject.

"Mommy! Mama! Daddy's hungry! Can we get something to eat? _Please_?" the little voice implored, as he turned around to face his two mothers with a pleading look in his eyes, his previous concern over his dad's sad expression temporarily forgotten.

Mel smiled tenderly; sometimes the short attention span of a young child was not necessarily a bad thing. "Sure, sweetie," she crooned soothingly. "I think we could _all_ stand a little something to eat, wouldn't you say, Mommy?" she asked Lindsey, placing her hand on the other woman's shoulder comfortingly.

Lindsey nodded mutely, trying with extreme difficulty to swallow the lump in her throat. She had been stunned by Brian's appearance; to most casual observers, the handsome man currently kneeling in a tender embrace with his son would look perfectly normal. But to her, she could easily tell what a toll Justin's death had taken on her friend. His slightly unkempt appearance, haunted, sleep-deprived face, and most of all, the light that had gone out of his eyes was vivid evidence to her of what he had lost – the love of his life. How he was going to get through talking to Gus about it, she didn't know.

"Yay!" Gus cried. "Hamburgers!" Taking his dad's hand now, he pulled on his father to come with him. "Come on, Daddy," he urged Brian. "It's time for _lunch_!"

"Gus, why don't we run ahead a little and find a place to eat first, okay?" Mel offered, as Lindsey smiled her thanks. Mel knew that the two old friends needed to speak privately. As Gus quickly concurred by rushing over to his mother and sister's side, Mel quietly mouthed the name of the restaurant she was taking them to before the three of them walked quickly away toward their destination, finally leaving Brian and Lindsey alone, thankfully in a less congested area of the terminal.

Lindsey pulled her friend into a fierce embrace, placing her smaller hands tightly around Brian's waist. After a few seconds, the brunet returned the gesture until the two were locked together in a hug. "Brian," she murmured, sniffling a little. "Oh, God. I still can't believe it's true."

After a few minutes, she finally broke loose from his hold to reach her hands up to both sides of his face. "I…..I don't know what to say, Peter Pan," she whispered. She shook her head slightly, still in disbelief. Somehow she had clung to the hope like everyone else that it was all a big mistake or some kind of terrible dream; at least, until she saw Brian's face. Now, looking at his utterly-devastated look, she knew it was horribly true. Her shoulders sagged in overwhelming sadness. Sadness for herself but mostly for Brian, who had finally given his heart to someone only to have it savagely ripped away.

Brian's eyes welled up with tears again. He had managed to hold up fairly well under the close scrutiny of his son earlier, but hearing Lindsey's sympathetic, heartbroken voice and seeing the deep worry etched on her face brought reality crashing down on him. He couldn't bear to look at her right now, or his tears would start flowing down his face again; he _certainly_ couldn't let his son see him like this.

He abruptly turned away from her to try and collect himself first. With his back to her, he said, his breaking voice barely above a whisper, "I can't believe he's gone, Wendy. God, I loved him _so fucking much._"

"I _know_ you did. And he loved you just as deeply." She tentatively reached out her hand to place it on his shoulder but dropped it just before she would have made contact, at a loss as to how to truly console him. No amount of empty words or physical gestures, however well-intentioned, would truly take the pain away that he was feeling.

"I'm glad you're here," she finally said softly. "I know your son is, too."

At the thought of his son, Brian's anguish only escalated. Turning around now to face his friend, he asked, "How am I going to _tell_ him, Lindsey? God, you know how he felt about _him_. He's just a boy. He's never going to understand," he lamented. "He will never understand why he's never going to see his ……..his _Poppa_ ever again." Brian choked on the word that Gus had started using for Justin. He closed his eyes tightly in pain; how _could_ Gus understand? _HE_ didn't understand, either. "What am I going to say when Gus asks where he is?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "You'll find the words somehow, though. Gus knows how much you love him. You'll figure out what to say."

He shook his head, unconvinced. "I _still_ can't believe it myself. How am I going to convince him of something I can't accept yet?" He reached his lean hands up to rub his eyes in despair. "I should be starting to come to grips with this whole fucking week by now. But I _can't_, Lindsey." He laughed ironically. "How I fucking wish I _was_ in Never Never Land right now. Then I could pretend that none of this happened. That I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning and see my son – and _him – _together, like it should be."

Lindsey _did_ place her hand on his shoulder now, trying in some way to offer what little comfort she could. "There will never be a good explanation for what happened, or why it had to happen to _him_. But whether we like it or not, my friend, our lives go on. YOUR life will go on." At Brian's look of disbelief, she added urgently, "Yes, it will…….you have your son and friends that love you. And, yes, _need_ you. Let us be your strength right now, Brian. We will all get through this _together_." She smiled in a melancholy way and whispered, "Now let's go join your son and let him be with his father he adores and let him just _love_ you for a while…..okay?"

Brian sighed deeply. He still had no idea what he would tell Gus about his _Poppa_, but he would try to find the fortitude to carry it out. Nodding to Lindsey, the two turned and slowly followed after the rest of their group, shoulders wrapped around each other in a common, painful bond of camaraderie.

* * *

_Mel and Lindsey's House – Toronto – mid-evening_

"Would you like to put Gus to bed?" Lindsey asked their houseguest. The three were sitting in the living room, waiting for Gus to finish brushing his teeth upstairs. His younger sister had been placed in her crib earlier.

Brian had to admit – despite his grief, he _had_ been grateful to spend time with his son. His wide-eyed curiosity about everything in the world, his glee over every little movement that caught his eye, and his simple joy at being with his father had helped to boost his spirits somewhat. If only he didn't constantly feel this hollow, deep hole in his heart, he would have been glad he had come to visit him. But as bedtime approached, he was filled with dread. He knew he couldn't put off the conversation he had feared for much longer.

Seeing his hesitation, the two women exchanged a sympathetic look. "Brian," Mel began. "You don't have to tell him tonight. Nothing's going to change what happened. Why not wait until you've slept on it before you talk to him about…….the accident?" Lindsey nodded mutely in agreement. Fortunately, Gus had been so involved in catching up with his father that he hadn't asked about Justin yet. And there was no point in telling him tonight, just before his bed time, if it wasn't necessary. It was going to be hard enough for both of them when it _was_ discussed.

Brian had snorted when Mel mentioned that he _sleep on it_. He hadn't slept well all week, and tonight would no doubt be the same. Without his partner sleeping peacefully beside him, he believed he would never sleep well ever again.

He finally nodded in defeated resignation. "Maybe you're right," he agreed softly. "I'll…..I'll be right back," he told them, as he turned to walk up the steps to his son's bedroom, his shoulders stooped.

Mel glanced at her mate sadly. "I never thought I would ever see Brian like this. He's……he's totally defeated. Lost. I don't think any of us knew just how much he loved Justin until this happened."

Lindsey whispered, "I knew. Even before _Brian_ did. I was so happy that he had found someone to challenge him, to break through the emotional shell he always put up, and to see him for the person he really was." Tears began to flow down the woman's cheeks as she added, "I'm really worried about him, Mel. I don't want him to retreat back into the emotionally-scarred man he was. I _liked_ this new Brian so much better. He was so _happy _that Justin was finally coming home." She shook her head sadly as she wiped the tears away from her face and bit her lip. "It's so _damn_ unfair. So unfair."

Mel reached over to embrace Lindsey tightly. "I know, baby, I know," she cooed to her. "We'll all miss him."

* * *

_Friday morning – Calhoun Street Apartment – Harrisburg_

Andrew emerged from the bedroom, his eyes searching for his roommate. For once, he had apparently awakened before Jacob did; the door to his room was still closed and there was no bustling activity in the kitchen. He was actually a little relieved; he never had been a big breakfast eater, and the other man's insistence on fixing him breakfast and dinner every day was getting a little embarrassing.

As he walked toward the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal before he left for rounds, his eyes glanced down at Jacob's sketchpad lying on the coffee table. Unable to resist, he sat down on the couch and began to flip the pad open to study the contents. So far, he had only seen the one drawing Jacob had done yesterday of his dream man; he wasn't sure if he had done any more sketches or not.

He was surprised, then, to see that he had. In fact, there were three more sketches. Two of them were of the same man – one showing him in a standing position, silhouetted in the moonlight against a large pane of glass, and the other one picturing him reclining on a couch, his long legs propped up against a glass coffee table and his hair casually tousled with his arms crossed in front of him. As before, Andrew was amazed by the lifelike, skilled quality of Jacob's work; it was obvious that he knew this man, Brian, well, and that he wasn't just some figment of an active imagination. Andrew wasn't an expert, but he felt sure there was no way Jacob could just be drawing this man from out of a dream; somehow, his memories were trapped inside and this was a way for them to manifest themselves in his work. The third, and final, piece was a daytime street scene. The street was lined with small shops and was teeming with activity, as people of all types and ages walked down the sidewalk. The detail of each person and building in the scene was exquisite and breathtaking in its depth; Andrew continued to be impressed by the talent he saw in his young friend.

"You're awake," he heard Jacob softly state behind him. He turned to see the other man sleepily emerging from his bedroom clad in the pajama bottoms he had loaned him. Briefly, he thought of how adorable the other man looked with his blond, bed-head hair, blue, sleepy eyes, and the pajama bottoms that hung precariously low on his hips, before he looked away to try and calm his rapidly-beating heart.

"How did you sleep?" he asked Jacob. Seeing the blond looking at the sketchpad he was still holding, he confided, a little embarrassed, "I hope you don't mind. After seeing that drawing you did yesterday, I couldn't resist. I was actually surprised to see that you had done some more after I went to bed – I thought you were going to try and get some sleep, too," he chided gently.

Justin nodded a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I was. But after tossing and turning for about an hour, I decided to come back out to the living room and draw some more. I kept getting these images in my head, and while they were fresh, I felt this strong urge to draw them." He frowned as he admitted, "My right hand started cramping up really bad, though, after about an hour and I had to quit for the night."

Andrew was immediately concerned. "Jacob – why didn't you wake me?" he growled, as the other man walked over to sit down next to him. "I thought I told you to inform me if you had any ill effects from your injury."

"I'm not sure it's _from_ my injury," he advised the other man. "Besides, it eased up after I took some ibuprofen, so I didn't want to wake you."

Andrew peered at him intently before reaching over and gently taking the other man's right hand in both of his. As he rubbed his hands in a massaging motion over the other man's more slender one, he asked, "Is it still bothering you?" He was amazed by how soft the smaller hand was.

Justin's face flushed slightly as he felt the other man caressing his hand. "No," he reassured Andrew. "It's fine now….really," he added, as the other man looked at him doubtfully. For a few seconds, his mind flashed to another image in his head: a similar-looking man sitting next to him on a couch, tenderly rubbing his long, lean hands over his own throbbing, painful hand, then finally reaching down to bestow a tender kiss on the palm.

Justin shivered. "Jacob?" he heard Andrew calling him suddenly. As he realized where he was, he quickly withdrew his hand from both of Andrew's and smiled slightly at him a little awkwardly as he stood up. "Let me fix you some breakfast," he offered as he began to walk toward the kitchen.

Andrew stood up. "No!" he said, just a little too adamantly, receiving a questioning look from the other man. "I mean….I appreciate the offer, Jacob, but it's really not necessary. I'm not a big breakfast eater usually. I've probably put on five pounds since you started cooking for me," he teased. "I'm just going to fix myself some cereal today, and get to work."

"If you're sure," the blond asked.

"I'm sure," he said firmly.

"Andrew……." Justin began. As the other man turned to look at him, he said anxiously, "We're still going to Pittsburgh tomorrow, right?"

Andrew slowly nodded his head; he knew how much Jacob was looking forward to going. "As long as you continue to progress satisfactorily," he advised him. "And don't try to hide anything from me," he warned the other man. "These kinds of injuries can be pretty tricky. You don't want to take anything that happens lightly. I want to know if _anything_ happens that doesn't seem normal to you, okay?"

"Yes, _Doctor_," Justin assured him. "I'll be a good patient, I promise." He crossed his heart symbolically.

"See that you are," the other man said sternly. As he quickly gulped down his cereal and placed his bowl in the sink, he turned to finish getting dressed. "What's on your agenda today, Mr. Martin?"

Justin smirked. "It's not like I have a _job_, you know. I wish. I think what I'll do, though, is work on those two canvases you got for me. I've been dying to see what I can do with them." Andrew noticed the other man's face lighting up as he talked about art. This man _had_ to be an artist – there was no doubt of it now. The absolute fire in the blue eyes was evidence of it.

"Sounds like a good idea – you should not be physically exerting yourself yet. Painting should be a fairly innocuous activity for you. Oh, by the way…..Michelle told me to tell you that you have another MRI scheduled for this Monday morning. I'll take you there with me when I go in for rounds."

Justin frowned. "Why am I scheduled for another MRI? I just had one the other day."

"Don't worry," Andrew reassured him. "It's fairly normal to have a comparative MRI done soon after the first one. The neurosurgeon wants to see if the swelling in your brain has gone down. Remember, I told you it might be possible for you to regain some if not maybe all of your memory as you continue to heal and the swelling is reduced."

Justin sighed. "God, I hope so. There've been so many times I feel like I'm _so close_ to remembering bits and pieces, and then it disappears as fast as it comes. The one constant in my dreams seems to be _him_."

"Brian, you mean," Andrew noted, trying hard to keep the jealous edge from creeping into his voice. How could he be jealous of a man he hadn't even met? But damn it, he was.

"Yes. I can't get him out of my head," Justin whispered. "Surely I'll find out _something_ when we go to Pittsburgh tomorrow. I can't wait to find out."

Andrew stared at him thoughtfully. "I hope you _do_ get some answers, Jacob," he told the other man. "Just don't get your hopes up _too_ much……okay?" he asked softly.

Justin nodded. "I'm trying not to," he told the brunet. "But right now it's the only hope I have."

Andrew pulled his coat on as he walked toward the door. "We'll know soon enough. We'll leave first thing tomorrow," he promised.

Justin smiled; he was so anxious to get there and visit the club in his dreams – Babylon. "Thanks, Andrew," he told the other man.

"By the way, I won't be home for lunch," he instructed his roommate. "I've got a hell of a schedule today. If you need anything, though, _call me_. Oh, and one more thing – I'll pick us up something for dinner tonight, so you can idle your cookware for a change."

Justin chuckled and nodded his understanding just before the other man exited the apartment. Once he was alone, he didn't even stop to fix breakfast; his was absolutely fixated on breaking out the set of paints Andrew had purchased for him to get to work on one of the blank canvases immediately. He eagerly stood the canvas up on the easel and opened up the paints to get started.

* * *

_Friday Afternoon – Toronto_

"Da ddy! Watch me!" Gus cried to his father, as he swung higher and higher on the park swing, his long legs swinging back and forth like a furious pendulum as he rose quickly into the sky. His gleeful laughter could be heard as his body came whooshing back down from its apex.

Brian and Lindsey smiled encouragingly from their perch on a nearby wooden bench, as Mel helped push Jenny Rebecca in a toddler swing a few feet away.

"He's so happy…….so unaware," Brian stated softly as he continued to gaze at the miniature version of himself. "How can I take that away from him, Lindsey?"

Lindsey gently grasped Brian's sleeve. "Brian, he's going to have to be told. You know he's going to ask about him. It's just a matter of time. I'm surprised he hasn't brought him up yet, actually. I'm sure it's only because he's so caught up right now with your visit."

Brian closed his eyes in pain. "I know," he whispered. "But damn it, Lindsey, I just can't fucking do that to him right now. Like Mel said last night, whether I tell him now or later, nothing's going to change what happened. Why not let him stay blissfully ignorant and happy as long as he can? He'll be in for enough heartache later." _My heart is aching enough right now for BOTH of us, Sonny Boy._

Lindsey waved to her son as he smiled broadly and waved back at them. "Maybe you're right," she finally decided. "Real life intrudes fast enough without pushing it along. Let's allow him to be happily unaware for a while longer," she said, gently squeezing Brian's arm to comfort him as he leaned his head against hers and sighed.


	13. Chapter 13: Here in Your Heart

_Calhoun Street Apartment – Harrisburg; Early Friday Evening_

"Hey," Andrew said in greeting as he arrived back at the apartment carrying a couple bags of takeout food from the deli down the street. "Ready to eat?" he called out. "Hope you like sub sandwiches," he added as he dropped the food down on the counter and turned to look for the other man, who had not answered him yet. "Jacob?" Frowning a little, something caught his eye as he walked over toward the kitchen table covered with newspapers. On top of the table was a still-drying piece of canvas painted in dramatic, somber shades of navy blue, burgundy, gray, and dark green. Even without a trained eye, it wasn't hard for Andrew to denote the angry, roiling strokes that were used to paint the abstract work. Despite the sobering tone of the piece, however, it was absolutely stunning; the painting seemed to almost suck you into its vortex of emotion and was breathtaking in its intensity. As he continued to study it, Andrew's eyebrows rose in acknowedgement of the extreme artistic talent his very troubled roommate possessed.

"Jacob?" he called out again, now starting to become a little concerned as he noted how quiet the apartment was. He was somewhat relieved, however, when he observed that Jacob's bedroom door was closed; perhaps he had simply gone in to take a nap. He knew the other man had not been sleeping well at all since he had come to stay with him. Creeping silently toward the door, he softly opened it and peered inside. The blond _was_ lying on the bed on his side, facing toward him and almost in a fetal position. He was not, however, sleeping peacefully. Rather, his face was contorted in apparent pain and sadness and he was mumbling mainly incoherently as his body began to thrash from side to side.

Only bits and pieces of what Jacob was saying could be understood by the other man; he thought he heard him muttering "I don't want to" in between more nonsensical ramblings as the younger man continued to almost violently shake and turn from side to side now, his brow breaking out in a cold sweat and his clenched fists gripping the sheets.

"Jacob," Andrew called out softly at first, trying to rouse the other man from the throes of his nightmare. He walked closer to the bed and repeated the other man's name, this time more loudly. "Jacob, wake up!" he commanded. The blond, however, appeared to not hear him, as he continued to moan in his sleep and a jumble of words continued to escape his lips.

Finally, Andrew sat down on the side of the bed and reached over to grasp Jacob's shoulders firmly in an attempt to stop the slender body from thrashing back and forth. "Jacob!" he called out loudly. "You're having a bad dream – wake up! It's Andrew. Come on, Jacob – wake up!" he repeated. Jacob's legs reached out now, seemingly trying to fight back against the other man's hold on him. "Let me go!" he cried out in his sleep, as his hands reached out, also, to try and rail against the brunet.

"Jacob!" Andrew yelled louder now, becoming extremely concerned in light of the other man's fragile state. "Wake up!" He shook the other man strongly now, as Justin cried out abruptly and bolted upright in the bed, his eyes flinging open in terror before they finally focused on the other man. His breathing came out in deep pants as he tried to still his rapidly-beating heart. Andrew continued to grasp the other man by his shoulders, more gently now, as the blond's breathing slowly returned to a more normal rhythm. "Are you okay?" Andrew asked him, his eyes full of concern as he looked at Jacob intently, his hands now slowly rubbing the other man's shoulders absentmindedly.

"What happened?" Justin asked him, confused, his eyes still clouded over with sleep.

"You were having a nightmare," Andrew informed him. "You were thrashing around like there was no tomorrow, and mumbling all kinds of things, mainly words I couldn't understand. The only thing I really could hear you say was something about _you didn't want to_, or at least that's what it sounded like. Whatever you were dreaming about, it certainly wasn't pleasant. Do you remember any of it?" he asked the other man as he studied Jacob's pale face and clammy, perspiring forehead.

Justin closed his eyes in concentration, trying desperately to recall what he had been dreaming about. He was overwhelmed with sadness as he realized he couldn't remember any of it; tears began to form in his eyes as he told the other man, "I _can't remember,_" he told Andrew. "I can't remember ANY of it! Fuck! What is WRONG with me, damn it!" he cried in frustration.

Andrew continued to rub the other man's shoulders comfortingly as he advised him sympathetically, "Jacob…..you sustained a _severe head injury_. For God's sake, it was less than a week ago. I know you are extremely impatient to regain your memory, but I have to repeat – it's going to _take time_." His heart went out to this fragile soul who was trying so frantically to regain his identity, but as not only his friend but also a doctor, he had to make sure the man didn't do further damage to his physical condition.

Justin sighed loudly in irritation. "I fucking _hate_ this, Andrew! I want my LIFE back!" he growled. "I can't stand this _not knowing_!" He shook his head angrily and balled his hands into fists.

"I know," Andrew whispered. "And I wish like hell I could write some kind of prescription and make your memory magically reappear. But unfortunately it doesn't work that way, Jacob. You really have no choice," he advised him. "You have to give it time. You're scheduled for your second MRI Monday. Hopefully it will show the swelling on your brain is diminishing and in turn your memory will improve. And we're still going to Pittsburgh tomorrow morning. If you ARE from there, hopefully that will jog some of your memories, also. Let's try to think optimistically, okay?" he implored gently with a slight smile of encouragement.

Justin stared at the other man for several seconds, trying to refute what he was saying but ultimately unable to. Did he really have any choice anyway? He breathed out a calming breath before he finally agreed grudgingly, "I know you're right, Andrew. It's just so fucking _hard_."

"Yeah, I know. You already warned me about your lack of patience, remember?" he teased, eventually eliciting a small smile from the other man in return. Realizing he was still holding onto the other man's shoulders, he somewhat reluctantly removed his hands from the slender body and propelled himself off the bed to stand nearby. "Now…..before I was so _dramatically_ interrupted, I was trying to find out if you were hungry. I brought home some sub sandwiches….you think you can eat something?"

"Don't you remember, Andrew?" Justin responded with a little smirk now on his face. "My impatience and appetite were about the only two things I _could_ guarantee probably hadn't changed from before."

The brunet smiled. "Well, then, let's get to it, Mister," he instructed, as he walked toward the door. Justin slowly emerged from the bed and followed the other man into the kitchen. "Oh…..sorry about that," Justin told his roommate, as he noticed him staring at the painting he had done earlier in the day still lying on the table. "I didn't know where to put it while it was drying."

"No, leave it," Andrew told him as Justin started to remove it. "It's fine," he reassured him. "We can sit on the counter stools." As he retrieved the two bags of food and placed them on the bar counter, he explained, "I wasn't wanting you to move it…..I just can't keep staring at it. It's……_amazing_, Jacob. You are so talented," he marveled as he noticed the blond blushing at the effusive praise. "That picture is so….._provocative_. It really draws you in. It's very…..._dynamic_." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm not much of an expert when it comes to art, so I just have to go with my gut. I couldn't tell you the difference between a Monet and a Picasso, but your work is incredible. I wouldn't even be able to draw a decent stick figure."

Justin flushed a deep pink at the other man's admiration. "Well, I certainly couldn't be a doctor, either," he said graciously. "I guess we each have our own unique talents – they're just manifested in different ways."

"Touché," Andrew said, smiling. As they finished up their sandwiches and Andrew balled the paper up to throw it in the garbage, he advised, "If you want to leave first thing tomorrow, I think it'd be a good idea for you to go to bed early. You're still not getting much in the way of recuperative sleep. Maybe I could give you a mild sedative to help you," he offered.

Justin considered his offer; maybe it _would_ help him to actually get a good night's sleep for a change. "Maybe you're right," he conceded. "I'll give it a try for one night," he decided, nodding.

"Good," Andrew responded. He walked over to his doctor's bag and pulled out a sample. "Take this with a full glass of water just before you want to go to sleep," he instructed, opening up the small box and slipping one of the light blue pills into the other man's outstretched hand. Just like the other day, he felt the jolt of electricity that passed through him and his heart beat increased as his hand briefly touched the other, more slender one.

"Spoken like a true doctor," Justin replied, grinning, as he accepted the pill and grasped it in his hand. If he had noticed Andrew's reaction to their touch, his expression didn't show it. "I'll take it in a little while. I want to be ready first thing in the morning for our trip. I hope it helps me to remember," he whispered fervently. He was trying not to get his hopes up too much, but he couldn't help it. This was the best chance he had of at least partially regaining his memory – he just felt it.

"I hope so, too, Jacob," Andrew told him sincerely, as he returned his medical bag to its previous place next to the couch. "How about we leave around 8:00?" he asked, pulling on his tie to loosen it in preparation for taking a shower.

As Andrew moved toward the bathroom, Justin confirmed excitedly, "I'll be ready." He couldn't wait to travel to what he hoped would be a familiar place and see what memories he could recall as a result.

Andrew observed Jacob's look of hopeful expectation on his face and thought silently, _I do hope you find what you want,_ before he closed the door softly.

* * *

_Pittsburgh – Friday evening_

"It's coming along fine, Brian," Ted reassured his boss in response to the man's request for an update report on the club's remodeling. "Even YOU won't recognize it when you get back," he informed him.

"Well, that was the fucking idea," Brian growled, as he pinched his nose in exhaustion. The sleepless nights he was experiencing lately weren't helping his temperament. "Just remember to tell those S.O.B.s that the remodeling has to be _completely_ done by the time I get back or they are not getting one ounce of their bonus."

"I understand," Ted almost shouted as he tried to hear over the constant din of hammers, electric saws and animated voices speaking nearby. He covered his ear in an attempt to hear Brian better while all of the noises echoed off the now exposed walls of the club. "Yeah, Kinnetik's fine," he yelled into his phone in response to Brian's other inquiry. "When do you plan on returning?" he asked the other man loudly.

"Monday," Brian told him curtly. "See that it's all finished by then," he demanded.

"I will," Ted promised, symbolically crossing his fingers in his head. He knew if the club wasn't refurbished to Brian's exact specifications by the time he got back, he would be royally pissed, and he would most definitely follow through on his threat not to pay the workers extra as a result. He also knew he and Cynthia had better hold Kinnetik together until Monday, too. After losing Justin, Brian couldn't take any other type of loss right now; Ted was determined that wouldn't happen. "Don't worry," he reassured the other man firmly. "Everything is on track. You just enjoy being with your son," he told his boss. He knew that Gus might be the only person right now who could possibly help Brian emerge from the deep pain he was presently feeling, although nothing would ever be able to wipe it out entirely; he knew that Justin's death had left a void in Brian's heart that could never be replaced.

He thought he heard Brian say softly, "I wish I could, Theodore," before he was disconnected.

* * *

_Friday Evening – Toronto_

"Come up and read me a story, Daddy." Brian was jolted from his melancholy thoughts as he heard his son calling to him from upstairs. Placing his cell phone down on a nearby table, he nodded to Lindsey and Mel sitting together on the couch. "Go ahead, Dad," Lindsey told him tenderly in acknowledgement, smiling a little. "Go read your son a bedtime story."

As Brian entered Gus' relatively small bedroom, he was struck once again by their similarities. They both had the same slender, lanky build, the same auburn hair, and the same long, lush eyelashes and hazel eyes. _You'll really be a lady killer when you get older, Sonny Boy,_ Brian thought fondly, as he smiled at his son. _Or maybe the Stud of Toronto – King of all the Queers._ Only time would tell which one would come to pass. He decided either situation would be okay with him, as long as Gus was happy. As happy as he looked right now, as he son smiled back at him delightedly. "Read me a story, Daddy," he repeated, holding out a rather threadbare, worn book toward his father with the title of _Ghost Town at Sundown_.

"What's this, Sonny Boy?" Brian asked the boy curiously. "Is this your favorite story?"

Gus nodded enthusiastically. "This one's the _best_, Daddy," he verified excitedly. As Brian accepted the book from his son's small, outstretched hand, his son rattled on at breakneck speed. "It's got baby horses, cattle rusteners, cowboys, and rattlesnakes," he proudly announced.

"_Rusteners_?" Brian asked the child, puzzled.

"You _know_, Daddy," the boy said in a scolding voice. "The bad guys that take the cows and don't give them back."

Despite the ever-present pain in his heart, Brian still had to smile as a look of understanding crossed his face. "Oh," he said knowingly. "You mean _cattle rustlers,_" he corrected his son, who shook his head in agreement.

"That's what I SAID," Gus said to his father somewhat incredulously. "Read it to me, Daddy," he urged his father.

Brian nodded as he sat down on the bed and scooted over to his son's side; they looked almost like identical bookends as father and son both sat with their backs propped against the wooden headboard and Brian began to read the well-known and well-loved story to Gus, his arm curled protectively around his son.

He had only gotten through a couple of introductory pages, however, before his son interrupted him. "No, Daddy, not like that. Do it like _Poppa_ reads it," he commanded.

Brian's heart suddenly felt like a knife had pierced it as he heard Gus mentioning his name for Justin. He tried desperately to keep the pain from escaping his voice as he asked his son hesitantly, "What do you mean, Gus?"

"When Poppa reads about the bad guy, he changes his voice," he advised his father. "Like this," he added, as he repeated the last line Brian had read word for word, only this time he actually deepened his child's voice to make it sound more menacing. "And when he tells me about the cowboy, he sounds like this." Gus then changed the inflection in his voice to mimic more of a southern accent as he recited the cowboy's line perfectly. "He lets me wear a cowboy hat to bed, too," he insisted. "Where's my hat?" he asked his father, as the hazel eyes searched rapidly around the room for the object.

"I…..I don't know, buddy," Brian whispered, his voice breaking. He was overwhelmed by the love Justin had constantly shown for his son, and the ways he had always gone out of his way to make Gus feel so special. _Like father, like son_, Brian thought, as his eyes welled up involuntarily with tears.

"Daddy?" Gus asked. "What's wrong?" Gus started to become upset at the thought that he had somehow made his father cry. "It's okay, Daddy," he reassured the man, reaching up to wipe a couple of tears from his father's cheeks with his small hands. "You can read it to me the way you want to. Poppa will read it to me the other way." Gus unexpectedly scrunched up his face as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "When IS _Poppa _coming, Daddy?" he urgently asked his father, the hazel eyes intently gazing at his father's for a response.

_Oh, God_, Brian thought in misery. The moment he had dreaded for days was finally here. What in the world was he going to tell his son? Time seemed to stop for an eternity as he agonized over what to say. Finally making a decision as his son continued to stare at him, he thought, _forgive me, Justin, I just can't fucking do it to him _before replying, his voice barely above a whisper, "Your poppa may not be able to come see you for a long time, Sonny Boy."

"Why, Daddy?" the little boy asked him plaintively, his expressive, hazel eyes as big as saucers as he fought hard to stifle a yawn.

"He wants to, Gus, but he just can't," Brian softly replied, his voice breaking. "But you know what, Sonny Boy? It's like magic. You know what magic is, don't you?" As Gus nodded, Brian continued, "Well, all you have to do is think about your _Poppa_ right here," he told the boy, as he placed his own hand over his heart, "and he will always be with you, no matter where you are." As the boy tried unsuccessfully to stifle an even larger yawn, Brian advised his son, "I think you've had enough adventures at the Ghost Town for tonight. I think it's time for all good cowboys to catch some shut eye and go to sleep.....okay?" Brian noticed the little boy's eyes fluttering in a losing battle to stay open as they finally closed in sleep. He gently pulled the child down to lie flat on the bed as he, too, lay down and snuggled into the small, soft body to inhale the little-boy, innocent smell of his son.

"He'll be right here," Brian whispered as he choked back a sob and closed his eyes, hoping desperately that maybe tonight he might finally be able to sleep, if only for a short time.


	14. Chapter 14: Babylon Revisited

_**A/N: Here is the next chapter - don't despair, B/J shippers - the boys are getting closer to making a connection. But it might not be in the way you think. Got to keep you all guessing! Thanks as always for the continuing feedback!**_

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* * *

__Toronto – Saturday Morning_

"Are they still asleep?" Lindsey asked her partner as she stepped into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.

Mel nodded her head. "Yeah – at least they were a few minutes ago when I checked on them. I found the two of them curled up together." She took a sip of her coffee and sat down with Lindsey at the table. "I know Brian and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I AM glad that he's finally getting a little rest. Even I could tell he hadn't been getting much of that lately. He looked _exhausted_ at the airport."

Lindsey absentmindedly stirred the sugar into her coffee. "Mel……do you think Brian told Gus about Justin yet? I know he was dreading that more than anything."

Mel shook her head. "I don't know, Baby. No way of knowing until we can get Brian alone and ask him. He's going to have to tell him at some point, though. He can't keep it a secret forever. Gus is a very bright child – he's going to notice that something's not right before too long."

Lindsey sighed softly. "I know. But sometimes I wish we could preserve his innocence just a little longer."

Mel reached over and gave the other woman a kiss on the cheek, briefly touching her shoulder. "I'm sure everyone wishes we could all go back in time before this ever happened. I don't think any of us realized just how much Justin had been such an important part of our lives. It's like…..I don't know." The attorney struggled for the right words. "I still remember when we first saw Justin and Brian together at our house – at least when we recalled who he was." She smiled in recollection. "The way he told Brian not to _flatter himself_, remember? He was like a breath of fresh air."

Lindsey returned her smile sorrowfully. "I remember. It was the first time I thought that just maybe Brian had met his match at last; turns out we were right. Only we didn't know how it was going to end years later." She tilted her head back and gazed up at the ceiling. "I still can't believe it," she murmured. "I really loved him, Mel. And I know Brian did, too…..I think more than any of us even knew."

Mel nodded. "I think you're right, Sweetie." A slight movement out of the corner of her eye made Lindsey turn to see Brian shuffling slowly into the kitchen, clad only in a pair of sweats that suddenly seemed to be a size too big for him. Thinking it was no doubt due to her friend not eating much this past week, she asked him softly, "Want some coffee?"

He finally nodded his head mutely after a few seconds and sat down with the two women in a nearby chair. As Lindsey placed a mug in front of him, she sat back down and stared at her friend sympathetically. "Did you get much sleep? Mel checked in on you two a little while ago and said you were asleep then."

Brian briefly considering answering with the standard "I'm fine," but he knew what an obvious lie that would be, especially to Lindsey. "A little," he eventually admitted. "Maybe an hour or two."

The two women exchanged a look before Lindsey spoke up. "Brian," she said softly. "Did you tell Gus?"

Brian averted his eyes. "No," he whispered finally. When he lifted his head, the pain was apparent on his face. "I _couldn't_ do it, Lindsey. I couldn't destroy his world. He……he asked me when his," Brian tripped over the word," …..his _Poppa_ was coming to visit, and I just couldn't fucking do it. I just couldn't _do _it……not yet." He said in answer to their unspoken question, "I will…..I just need more time," he implored, placing his head in his hands.

Lindsey placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know how hard this is for you," she replied understandingly.

"No. No, you really don't," Brian protested fiercely, his head rearing back up. "YOU look into his eyes and tell him that his _Poppa _will never be coming to see him again." He shook his head in disbelief. "Shit…….YOU try to tell him that."

"Brian……Maybe WE should be the ones to tell him. Maybe that would be best," Mel said sensibly, even though she was dreading telling him just as much as Brian was.

"No!" Brian demanded forcefully. "I WILL tell him……But what fucking difference does it make, though, if we tell him now or two _weeks_ from now? Huh? Tell me why it matters. He's never coming back either way!" He cried in despair.

Mel was about to protest that she could do it just as well as Brian could, when Lindsey placed a hand on her arm in a silent plea to let Brian do it his way, and in his own time. Somehow she knew it was important to him – important to Justin's legacy – that he be the one to tell his son.

Mel pursed her lips together tightly. She wasn't happy about the situation, but since Lindsey seemed to be agreeing with Brian, she decided perhaps it wouldn't make a big difference in the long run. The longer they held this information from Gus, however, the more difficult it was going to be. She nodded to the blonde to signify she would go along with Brian's request, at least for now

"Okay, Brian," Mel answered him. "Two weeks. But if you haven't told him by then, WE will. He _has_ to know. Surely you can see that."

Brian looked away, lost in thought and memories. Sighing, he agreed. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be back in a couple of weeks, and I'll tell him then. I have no fucking idea how I'll do it, but I will." As he gulped down the last of his coffee, he stood up and informed them, "I'm going to go see if Gus is awake. I want to spend as much time with him this weekend as I can before I have to go back home." This past week had made him realize more than ever that time was too precious to squander on less important things. He was never going to get back what time he had lost being without Justin, but he sure as hell could start rectifying that deficit with his son.

* * *

_Pittsburgh – Saturday morning_

"Teddy? Where _are_ you? I can barely hear what you're saying. It sounds like you're at a bus terminal or something." He could hear a raucous cacophony of sounds erupting in the background.

"I _wish_," his boyfriend replied testily. He cupped his hand over his ear as he strained to hear what Blake was trying to say. "I'm at Babylon," he virtually yelled. "Brian wants all the reconstruction finished by the time he gets back Monday morning, and of course, everything's off schedule. He promised the workers a big, fat bonus if they get done on time, so they're all scrambling around like mice with cheese to get it done. And unfortunately, since he put _lucky me_ in charge, I can't go anywhere in case they have a crisis come up. Looks like I'm stuck here until Monday. If you need me, I'll be the petrified skeleton strung out on the VIP couch in the back," he retorted.

Blake chuckled. "My poor baby," he commiserated. "I'll tell you what. I'll come by around lunch time and bring you a takeout from the diner with all your favorite foods. You might even get a tasty _desert_," he purred.

"What's that?" Ted answered. "I could have _sworn_ you were offering to keep me company here in the dungeon."

Blake smiled. "That's _exactly_ what I'm offering, Teddy. Is the door unlocked?"

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Ted retorted. "The man's so paranoid about the competition stealing his ideas during the renovation he made me give all the workers a special key card to get in or out. If you don't have one, you don't get in. Give me a call when you're here and I'll let you in," he advised, almost having to shout now. "Oh, and by the way, you have to come around to the delivery entrance around back. The main door in the front is locked until the club reopens next week and it's so loud in here I couldn't hear you anyway……I'll be looking forward to seeing you, though. Come and rescue me, will you?" he joked.

Ted smiled to himself as Blake answered, "I'll be there around 1:00. Be ready for me."

"Don't worry," the other man assured him. "I'll be MORE than ready." _If I don't kill myself before then_, he thought.

* * *

_Saturday Morning – Harrisburg_

Justin sat on the couch, nervously wringing his hands impatiently. It was barely 8:00, but he was already a bundle of nervous energy. Andrew was still getting dressed; he had heard him emerging from the shower a few minutes ago, so hopefully he would be ready to leave soon. Despite the mild sedative Andrew had given him, Justin still hadn't slept well last night; at least _this_ time, however, it wasn't due to a nightmare. He had been so wound up about his trip today, and what little sleep he _did_ manage to get was consumed by thoughts of Brian, the man who always seemed to be both the focus of his dreams at night and his artistic visions by day.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the other man quietly open his bedroom door and walk out, freshly-shampooed hair still damp from the shower. He knew Jacob was extremely anxious to get going, so he hadn't even bothered to dry it completely. "Jacob?" he called softly, trying not to startle the other man. "You ready to go?"

Justin turned to observe his friend standing unobtrusively nearby. He let out a nervous breath as he confirmed, "Yeah. I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Standing up to join the other man, he said softly, "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Andrew. I know this was a lot more than you bargained for when you went in for rounds this week," he said, a little awkwardly.

Andrew laughed to try and put his mind at ease. "I'd have to agree with you on _that_ one," he concurred. "But at least I can't say this week's been _boring_."

Justin smirked. "I'm glad I could provide you with your _entertainment_ for the week."

Andrew grinned. "Well, at least I got a trade off, then." He nodded his head in the direction of the door as he added, "Let's get going. Did you remember to bring the address of the club with you?"

Justin reached in his pants pocket. "Right here," he confirmed.

Andrew nodded. "Good. I'll program it into the GPS. Ready?"

"Ready," Justin verified, as he following Andrew out the door to his car.

* * *

_Pittsburgh – Late Saturday Morning_

The sun had already risen almost directly overhead by the time Justin and Andrew arrived in the heart of the city. As they got closer to their destination, Justin's heart beat faster at the thought that perhaps _finally_ at least some of the keys to his memory would surface. As Andrew navigated the labyrinthine streets, Justin spent his time constantly looking out the side window, hoping that something or someone, somewhere, would trigger his memories. He let out a large sigh as nothing seemed to appear familiar yet.

"What is it?" Andrew asked concerned. "You're not having any problems, are you?"

At Justin's puzzled glance, he explained, "Dizziness, headaches, light-headedness?"

Justin shook his head. "No, nothing yet," he assured him.

"Then what is it, Jacob?"

Justin sighed again, this time more softly, as he turned to look at the older man. "I…..I was so sure that once we got to Pittsburgh, _something_ would look familiar at least. Something would _click. _So far, there's been _nothing, _absolutely _fucking nothing,_" he admitted, clearly frustrated, as he continued to peer intently out the window in hopes that a flash of familiarity would suddenly appear.

"There's that _impatience_ again, Mr. Martin," Andrew chided gently. "We just _got_ here. We haven't even arrived at Babylon yet. Give it time," he counseled soothingly.

Justin snorted. "Time…..I HATE that word."

Andrew grinned. "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me, coming from the King of Impatience." Before Justin had an opportunity to reply with some type of witty comeback, Andrew pointed out, "We're coming up on the address for Babylon. Keep your eyes peeled."

Justin didn't have to be told twice; he quickly turned and craned his neck to look out the windshield as Andrew turned down a fairly narrow street, almost an alley, and slowed down as the GPS indicated they were within a few hundred feet of their destination.

As the car crawled to an eventual stop, Justin noticed an odd lack of activity. He figured these types of clubs wouldn't open until late at night, but the absolute silence was almost eerie. The street was completely devoid of any pedestrian traffic, with only the occasional car passing by. Without asking the other man his intentions, Justin opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He stood for several seconds by the car, looking around intently for something, _anything, _to jolt his memory into focus. Except for the club nearby, the rest of the street was composed of what appeared to be mainly office and warehouse space. He surmised that mainly due to the weekend, the foot traffic would normally be very light, but he was surprised, as well as disappointed, to not see _anyone_ at the moment.

As he emerged from the driver's side to stand by Justin, Andrew looked over at the other man, curious to see if any flicker of recognition was apparent on the pale face. "Jacob? Anything?" he asked softly. The only response from the blond was a slight negative shake of his head before Justin resolutely started across the street toward the club.

As he neared the entrance, he peered up at the neon sign that looked so nondescript in the bright sunlight; it was difficult to imagine the image at night when it would undoubtedly be lit up like a spotlight. He was startled, however, to notice that the name of the club wasn't Babylon; it was _Pulse_.

"Pulse." Justin said the word softly to himself, confused, as Andrew moved to join him. "I don't understand. I'm _sure_ this was the right address. What……what's going _on_?" he asked, whether it was to himself or Andrew he wasn't sure.

"Look," Andrew noted, pointing out a sign posted on the door. "It says the club is closed temporarily for remodeling."

"Look for our new and improved club opening soon. We apologize for the inconvenience," Justin read. "Inconvenience? _Inconvenience?!" _he cried angrily, his voice rising. "_INCONVENIENCE!? _My whole fucking memory is gone and they call it an _inconvenience?! Fuck!"_ He began to pace furiously, looking for something, _anything_, to vent his utter frustration against, impetuously choosing the closest target.

"Jacob, NO!" Andrew shouted immediately. But he was too late to prevent the other man from taking his hand and punching it violently against the club's impenetrable, heavy metal entrance door. As Justin reeled back in shock and pain, Andrew grabbed him around the waist and aggressively pulled him away from the door to prevent any further damage. "Jacob! This isn't going to help!"

"Let me GO!" Justin protested crossly, tears of defeat and frustration springing to his eyes.

Andrew instead tightened his hold on the other man even more, as Justin struggled to free himself. Even though he was no match for the other man's strength, his agitation continued to build as nearly a week's worth of dead ends and dashed hopes came crashing down on him. "I want my fucking _LIFE_ back!" he cried out to no one in particular – Andrew, the entire city of Pittsburgh, God himself, he wasn't sure. "Do you hear me?" he yelled. "I want my LIFE BACK!" He screamed, as he continued to struggle violently against the other man.

"Jacob, STOP!" Andrew again demanded. He was actually at a loss, though, as to what to say to his friend to mollify him. Things will get better? His memory will return in time? Both might or might not be true. What could he _say_? Truthfully, there was _nothing_ he could say right now that would really reassure his friend. But somehow he knew he had to get him calmed down. "Jacob," he stated urgently. "Listen to me. This isn't the way to handle things," he said into the other man's ear in hopes he would heed what he was saying. For a few seconds, he thought he might actually be getting through to the other man, because he abruptly stopped struggling against him. But when he looked down at Jacob, he was horrified to see that the other man had ceased his fighting because he had placed his undamaged hand on the side of his head – the side that had been injured just a few days ago.

Andrew turned Jacob around and noticed with fear how pale the other man's face was as he grimaced, apparently in pain. "Jacob? What IS it?" he asked, his face full of worry.

"My head," was all that the other man could manage to say in a whisper, as Andrew loosened his hold on the other man just as he slowly slunk down to sit on the ground, his back propped against the securely-closed club door.

Andrew was both extremely concerned as well as angry; very concerned over his friend's condition, but also furious with himself for allowing Jacob to talk him into this determined stroll down what the blond no doubt had hoped would be Memory Lane. Instead, it appeared to have simply exacerbated the man's already tenuous medical condition, or possibly worsened it.

Remembering the promise he had pried from Jacob earlier, he stooped down next to the other man and reached out his hands to gently remove the slender one from the blond's head. "Jacob? Your head's hurting?" he asked clinically now, his doctor training automatically taking over. He received only a slight affirmative shake in reply. "Let me see," he requested sternly, leaving no question that he meant business.

Justin closed his eyes as both his head and his hand continued to throb in pain. He felt Andrew's hands gently probing his head where the injury had occurred. He finally heard the other man sigh, not completely sure why – whether in sympathy, consternation, or both.

"That's it, Jacob," Andrew decided. Justin opened his eyes, about to issue a vehement protest, when a fresh wave of pain hit his hand where he had rashly and unwisely punched the door. "Fuck!" His face contorted in agony as both his head and hand pulsated with sharp, aching sensations. "_NO _arguments," Andrew growled. "You're going to be checked out – NOW. Get up – we're going."

Justin opened his mouth to complain, but the determined, no-nonsense look in his friend's eyes quickly dissuaded him from doing so. He grudgingly accepted the outstretched hand of his friend and allowed himself to slowly be pulled up onto his feet by his undamaged hand. "Andrew….." he tried to begin again.

"No, Jacob," was the prompt and firm reply. "I'M the doctor here, and what I say goes……you got it? You promised," Andrew reminded him, somewhat irritated. "I'm sure you _remember_ that."

Justin was in no mood at the moment to issue a snappy reply; his head and hand were both throbbing too much. Shaking his head a little in disgust, he muttered, "Yeah…..I seem to _recall_ that vividly. Too bad that's ALL I fucking remember at the moment."

Andrew's anger dissipated as he looked at the forlorn, disappointed face of his friend. He sighed and let out a slow breath as he gently squeezed Justin's undamaged hand. "Come on, then. This isn't the end, Jacob," he softly reassured him. "We can come back. But I think this is enough for now. You need to have your head and that hand looked at. At least it's not your _right_ hand," he observed, remembering that Jacob had mainly used his right hand to draw or paint.

"Well, that makes me feel a whole _lot_ better," Justin retorted testily, as he slowly followed the other man back to the car under the brunet's watchful eyes. Andrew opened the car door for Justin and waited for him to get in. As soon as he had joined him in the driver's seat, he quickly punched an inquiry for the nearest urgent care center into the GPS and pulled away promptly, crossing his fingers mentally that Jacob had not done any serious harm to his hand or any further damage to his previous head injury.

As their car drove off, however, their departure was followed closely by a blond-haired man standing a few hundred feet away, holding a large carryout bag in his hand. The commotion raised by Justin's tirade had not gone totally unnoticed by everyone. As Blake stood there at a nearby corner, his mouth fell open and his eyes narrowed in confusion. _What the fuck?_ He made a mental note to ask Teddy about what he had just observed as soon as he joined him for lunch.


	15. Chapter 15: Lines Converging

"Hey, Baby," Ted greeted his boyfriend with a quick kiss on the cheek and a short hug. "Mmmm….Looks good. And you brought some food, too," he teased, as Blake gave him a short slap on the arm. "Come on in," he urged the other man as he took him by the arm and helped him navigate around the sawhorses, scaffolding, and numerous workers rushing around the dance area of the new _Pulse._

"Wow," Blake marveled as he looked around at all the activity and the transformation slowly taking place. "This is _incredible_, Teddy. If I hadn't been in here before, I wouldn't even recognize the club. It looks _totally_ different." The entire interior had been gutted and a techno, futuristic room was slowly emerging, complete with lots of chrome, black marble and a revolving, two-tier dance floor and bar.

"That's the idea," Ted informed him as they finally reached the VIP Lounge and he was able to close the door to muffle some of the chaos just outside. "Brian told me in no uncertain terms that he doesn't want to recognize, quote, _one fucking inch of the place_, when he gets back. I'm trying hard to make sure he can't." He placed Blake's takeout bag on a nearby table and invited the other man to sit down with on the couch. "I know why he doesn't want to come back to the same old Babylon, though – too many memories he'd just as soon forget of a certain someone. Can't say I blame him – this place definitely holds a lot of memories of the two of them." Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and prepared to give one to Blake. "Let's see what Debbie fixed for us," he said, rubbing his hands eagerly, just before Blake reached out his arm to stop him.

Ted looked over at him a little confused. "What? You haven't already eaten, have you?"

Blake shook his head. "No…….But you just reminded me of something I needed to talk to you about. Although you may think I'm crazy after I tell you."

Ted narrowed his eyes, puzzled. "What?"

"I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I know what I saw, Teddy."

"What in the world are you talking about, Blake? What's wrong?" He noticed the other man's hesitation.

"Teddy…….I had to park a little down the street because of all the work trucks grouped around the back door of the club. When I started walking down the street, I heard a man yelling at someone. I turned around and noticed two guys standing at the front door of Babylon……." His voice died off.

"What, Blake? What happened?"

"I know how crazy this sounds, but I recognized one of the men – the blond-haired one who was yelling at the other man. Teddy……It was _Justin_."

Ted looked at the other man as if he had grown another head. "Blake……That's not _possible_. I told you what happened to Justin about a week ago. He was in that big train crash in Harrisburg. There were NO survivors. You _know_ that."

Blake, however, was not to be dissuaded. His eyes were large and expressive as he insisted, "Teddy….I know what you told me, but I also know what I saw. I've seen Justin Taylor numerous times – I've stood next to him, had drinks with him, been to parties with him and Brian and talked to him. And I'm telling you – it was _him_," Blake stated firmly.

Ted stared at the other man intently. He could tell Blake was deadly serious, but what he was saying was simply not possible. "Blake," he replied gently, placing his hand on the other man's arm. "I'm sure you _think_ you saw Justin, but there's no way. As much as we would all like to believe this terrible week never happened, especially Brian – God, he's totally broken up over it – there's just _no way_ you saw what you thought you saw. It's not possible."

Blake abruptly snatched his arm away from Ted.

"What?" Ted asked him, astounded by the other man's intensity.

"Fuck you, Teddy! I'm telling you it was _him_! What, you think I'm _ON _something? Is that it?"

Ted was incredulous. "NO, of _course_ I don't! Surely after everything we've been through, you know me better than _that!_ I trust you……It's just, well, how can that be _possible_? There were NO survivors, Blake! Amtrak verified that Justin was a passenger on the train. If you put two and two together, there's NO WAY it could be him, that's all!" Flustered, he rubbed his hand through his hair as he tried to calm down. How did this situation go from being so pleasant to tense in just a few minutes' time? "Look," he said calmly. "They say everyone has a double. You must have just seen someone who _looked_ a lot like him, that's all. I mean, you were, what, a few hundred feet away at the time? That must be the explanation. It's the only logical one."

But Blake was adamant. "NO, Teddy, I don't care what you or anyone else says – it was _Justin_. I don't know what he was doing with that other man, or what he was so upset about, but it was HIM. I saw the two of them get into a car and drive off. I may have been a little ways down the road at first, but the two of them drove _right past me_. It was HIM." He quickly stood up in a huff. "Enjoy your lunch," he snapped, as he started walking toward the door.

"Where......where are you _going?_" the other man asked, perplexed, as he, too, stood up.

"I'm _leaving_. Suddenly I'm not hungry."

Ted couldn't believe it. "Come on, Blake, don't leave mad," he answered, moving over to intercept the other man at the door. Before he could reach out his hand to grasp the other man's arm, however, Blake placed his hand out to stop him.

"Just forget it, Teddy…….I'm going. Go ahead and eat. Look……I'll see you at home later. I'm not mad," he said in response to his boyfriend's silent question. "But I still know what I saw, no matter what you or anyone else thinks." He opened the door and softly closed it behind him, leaving Ted still astounded over what had transpired. Surely Blake knew there was no way he had seen what he thought he saw. Shaking his head in exasperation, he finally returned to the couch and picked up his sandwich. Suddenly, he wasn't very hungry, either. Sighing, he placed it on the table nearby and lay down on the couch to try and calm his nerves and hopefully prevent the splitting headache that was quickly developing.

As Blake closed the delivery door behind him, he stood in thought for several seconds. _I know what I saw,_ he repeated to himself. _But Teddy's right. How is it POSSIBLE? And more to the point, how in the hell is he going to get Brian, of all people, to BELIEVE him? _He let out a determined breath. He had no idea what was going on, but somehow he had to find a way to convince Brian that Justin was still alive. Deep in thought, he slowly walked back toward his car.

* * *

_Same Time – Alleghany Urgent Care Center, Pittsburgh_

"Doctor Bradley?" The tall, slender gray-haired man walked up to Andrew in the waiting room , who nodded. "I'm Dr. Gray. You brought Mr. Martin in, I understand."

"Yes, Doctor. I was Jacob's original treating physician."

"Would you come back with me? I really don't want to discuss this out here."

As Andrew followed the doctor through a set of double doors and into a short hallway, he hoped that the other man would not be giving him and Jacob distressing news. Jacob had had enough disappointment today; the last thing he needed was to be told that he had more problems with his head or his hand.

Justin looked up anxiously from his sitting perch on the medical bed; the blond's worry increased as he saw both Dr. Gray and Andrew coming in together.

"How are you feeling, Jacob?" Andrew asked him, as he stood nearby. He noticed his friend was wearing a flexible wrap on his damaged left hand.

"Okay, I guess. But I'm hoping that's what the doctor's about to tell me," he indicated, looking over at Dr. Gray worriedly.

The doctor sat down on a nearby stool and motioned for Andrew to join him in a visitor's chair. Both men looked at Dr. Gray as he advised them, "First the hand. We did a series of x-rays on your left hand and have determined you, fortunately, did not break any of the phalanges." At Justin's look of puzzlement, he explained, smiling slightly, "That's a fancy term for your finger bones. You DID sustain a wrist strain but not a sprain. We've placed your hand in a flexible cast for a few weeks, but it should heal properly on its own. I'll prescribe you some pain medication to help with any discomfort you experience in the meantime."

"That's good news," Andrew advised Justin, who smiled a little in relief. Justin realized how stupid it had been to take out his frustration on his hand, and especially with a solid, metal door. "What about his head, doctor?" Andrew asked somewhat nervously.

The doctor stood up and walked over to a light board, flipping it on to reveal some x-rays and an MRI of Justin's head. "I ordered a series of cranial x-rays as well as an MRI for Mr. Martin," he advised the other doctor. Andrew stood and walked over to join him as he peered at the x-rays and MRI results currently being shown on the board. "As you can see, there is understandably notable evidence of scar tissue from his recent injury, as well as apparently some from a previous head injury. I don't have his other x-rays or MRI to compare to these results, so I'm a little at a detriment here to determine if there has been any type of setback to your recovery, Mr. Martin. From these views taken today, however, there does not appear to be anything out of the ordinary, at least taking into consideration the traumatic head injury you sustained recently. Perhaps Dr. Bradley, however, would be better at judging that than I, since he informed me he was your original treating doctor."

Andrew studied both results carefully, looking for any signs of an exacerbation of Jacob's injury or any condition warranting additional concern, such as an appearance of deterioration or bleeding around the point of impact. After several seconds of silence, Justin was becoming more alarmed until Andrew turned and smiled at him. "Everything seems to be okay, Jacob," he informed the other man. "At least as okay as someone who's been through what you've experienced," he clarified. Andrew had already notified Dr. Gray of his friend's problem with memory loss.

"Then what caused my head pain back there?" he asked pointedly. The pain had thankfully subsided greatly since he had arrived here and they had given him some fairly potent pain medication.

"Well, Dr. Bradley can possibly answer that for you better than I, but my instinct would be that the pain was caused by your tension and stress at the time," Dr. Gray responded. "Constricting blood vessels, muscle contractions during heightened emotional experiences, depression and anxiety….even clenching your jaw. Any of those can cause severe tension headache pain. I'm not a neurologist, but from what I see I do not notice anything that would warrant undue concern."

"I agree with Dr. Gray," Andrew assured him. "The hand smashing wasn't the most _intelligent_ thing I've see you do," he said reproachfully, as Justin twisted his face a little in embarrassment. "But these results of your head are pretty much in line with what I remembered seeing on the first series we took in Harrisburg. In fact, I don't have the others to study side by side, but I actually think the swelling around your brain has decreased somewhat from a week ago. That's actually _good_ news."

Justin sighed a little. _If the swelling has decreased, why has my memory not INCREASED? _As he looked over at Andrew, he could almost hear the other man saying silently, _Patience, Jacob……patience._ _I really fucking HATE that word, though_, he thought.

"All in all, I would say you were lucky today, especially with your hand," Dr. Gray was saying as Justin tried to refocus on what the doctor was saying. "I'll get that prescription ready for you," he notified Justin as he walked toward the door. "And I would check back with your doctor in Harrisburg in a week to follow-up. Gentlemen," he said, before opening the door and exiting, leaving the two roommates alone.

"Yeah, I was _lucky_," Justin repeated sarcastically. "Apparently his definition of lucky varies greatly from mine." _If_ _I HAD been lucky, I would have fucking found out who I WAS today._

As if he could read his mind, Andrew murmured sympathetically, "I know you're disappointed. That's completely understandable," he added soothingly. "But I meant what I said, Jacob. We'll come back. You need to rest now, though. You've been through enough today. It's time to go home now. I promise I'll bring you back here if you think this is the key to getting your memory back."

_Home_. _Just where WAShome? Here? Harrisburg? An apartment he had only known about less than a week ago with a man he had just met? _Although Justin did have to admit, he didn't know where he would be without Andrew's help. He just wanted to know where he _belonged_. And his gut told him it was here – in Pittsburgh. He just had to find the right key to open his memories. _Brian – where are you? _He couldn't help thinking. _Help me here._

He snapped out of his reverie in time to notice Andrew staring at him, apparently waiting for a response. "I know somehow, Andrew, that Pittsburgh is the key," he answered. "Can't we stay just a little longer?" he pleaded softly.

"Jacob…..I know how badly you want to find out who you are, but like I said, if from only a medical viewpoint, you've been through enough today. You need to _rest_. And, unfortunately, on top of that as a medical resident, I've got _horrific_ working hours. I'm not officially on the schedule tomorrow, but I have to be on call. So I need to get back to the apartment in case I'm needed at the hospital." Andrew looked over at his troubled friend. "I'm sorry you didn't find what were hoping for today, Jacob. I promise we'll try again next week…..okay? Besides, I would still like to repeat your MRI back at the hospital tomorrow. No offense to the good Dr. Gray, but I would feel better if one of the hospital radiologists performed the test and interpreted your MRI. And I want the neurologist to look at it, too. I don't think an urgent care is best suited to handle this type of test, especially when it involves a brain injury."

Justin sighed; he had a feeling that was going to be Andrew's response. He finally nodded sadly in resignation, as the other man handed him his clothes to put on. "I'll be right outside," Andrew verified, as he opened the door. "I'll meet you out in the lobby." He walked out and down the hallway toward the exit doors.

Justin quietly donned his pants and shirt perfunctorily as he waited for the doctor to return with his prescription. He was already thinking that next weekend couldn't come soon for him. He vowed to be back in Pittsburgh first thing next Saturday, with or without Andrew.

* * *

_Sunday Evening – Toronto_

"Was that Ted?" Lindsey whispered to Brian as he walked back from the bathroom and into the guest bedroom he was currently occupying. She noticed with an affectionate smile that Gus had fallen asleep on the far side of the bed; apparently his father had been reading him yet another rendition of _Ghost Town at Sundown_, because the book was lying face down, open on the bed and her son was wearing his favorite brown, leather cowboy hat perched half-on, half-off the top of his head. She recalled when Gus had first obtained the hat a year ago. Justin had come to visit them on the way back from a trip to Los Angeles for a possible art client, and he brought the hat with him from a movie prop studio near Hollywood. It was a child-size version of the hat Woody had worn in _Toy Story_, but Gus preferred to think it belonged to the main character in his book. From the first time he had seen the gift, he had placed it excitedly on his head and had practically worn a hole through it since then from the number of times he had insisted on wearing it to bed. Every time she saw Gus with the hat, Lindsey always thought of Justin and his generosity, thoughtfulness, and how much he loved her son. And how much her son loved him in return.

"Lindsey?" Brian asked softly, noticing the faraway, wistful look on her face and the eyes that were suddenly glistening with unshed tears.

She sniffed a little and smiled softly, shaking her head. "It's nothing," she whispered, trying to reassure him. "Was that Ted you were talking to?" she repeated, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah," Brian said softly, trying not to awaken his son. "I was just checking on how the new club was going. He says it's coming along well. They should have it ready to be reopened by the time I get back Monday evening. It's even being renamed, by the way. It's no longer going to be called Babylon."

Lindsey reacted with surprise to that; she had no idea he was changing the name as well. "Mm….What's the new name, then?"

"I decided to go with _Pulse_."

"Pulse…….I like it. What's the new club going to look like?" she asked curiously. Of course, she knew the reason _why_ he was remodeling the club. After what had happened this week, the only way Brian would be able to walk back into his club was if he couldn't recognize it and the memories it would hold for him. It would be the only way he could ease his pain enough to keep operating it.

"I'm going for a futuristic look – lots of metal, chrome, silver, and black. It's even going to have a revolving dance floor, and a two-story bar. But it will still have my VIP room…..and of course a back room for the _common people_." Brian tried to smirk at his statement, but found he fell flat. It was still too hard to make a joke about anything yet. He had found nothing this week to smile about, and probably wouldn't for a long time.

"Sounds unique," Lindsey offered. "Mel and I will have to come down and see it sometime. Are you going to have an official grand reopening or something?"

"I'll leave that up to Theodore," Brian told her. He had no stomach for anything remotely resembling a celebration right now. Instead, he would wait a few days until the hoopla died down before he would set foot in the new club.

"So what time are you leaving Monday?" she asked.

"My plane leaves at 10:00, so I'll have time to eat breakfast with Gus before I go," he advised her, as he looked down at the angelic-looking, miniature version of himself. As he sat down gingerly on the bed, he reached over and gently brushed back some errant hair from the little boy's forehead. He was actually glad Gus had fallen asleep in his bed. Maybe if his son would stay with him tonight, he would be able to get a little more sleep like he did last night. And maybe, just maybe for a little while, he could pretend that it was Justin sleeping next to him, something he yearned for more than anything he had ever wished for in his life.


	16. Chapter 16: Drawing Closer Together?

_Sunday Evening – Harrisburg – Calhoun Street Apartment_

"Jacob? You've been awfully quiet all day. Are you in any pain?" Andrew studied his friend carefully from his place on the couch. Justin was sitting sideways in a somewhat awkward position in one of the recliners; his legs were hanging over one of the rolled arms and he was staring out of the large picture window. His eyes, however, looked unfocused as if he weren't really looking at anything specific.

Andrew sighed softly. The other man had been just as quiet on the ride home yesterday. He knew how disappointed he must be at their failure to accomplish anything in Pittsburgh, but he had expected Jacob would be a little more communicative by today. "Jacob?" he tried again, this time a little louder.

Finally, Andrew heard him whisper, "Physical pain or mental pain?"

Justin continued to stare absentmindedly out the window as the rain continued unabated from earlier today. _Just as well,_ he couldn't help thinking. _It matches my mood PERFECTLY right now – dreary._

Andrew looked over at Jacob sympathetically. He couldn't begin to truly understand what the other man was going through, but he knew it had to be extremely upsetting as well as frustrating. Slowly, he stood up from his place on the couch and walked over to the other man, kneeling down in front of him. As he reached up to take the undamaged right hand in both of his, Justin finally refocused his eyes downward to meet the hazel ones. "Talk to me, Jacob," Andrew implored.

"What would you have me _say_, Andrew?" Justin whispered bitterly, his voice breaking. "Thanks for the trip, I had a really good time? Glad we had the GPS so I could see another doctor, who gave me the same _fucking bullshit_ I've heard for the _last week_?" Justin pantomimed, "_We don't know if you'll regain your memory, the brain's a very tricky organ. We still don't know much about how it functions. You just have to be PATIENT!_" His eyes started watering in despair. "Do you have any idea how fucking much I DESPISE that word?!"

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Andrew had to smile a little. "Yeah, I think I might," he replied softly, his face quickly turning sober again. He subconsciously rubbed his thumbs over the other man's hand as he continued, "Look. I won't insult you by pretending that I understand what you're going through, because I don't. All I can do is be honest with you and try to give you as much advice and support as I can. I wish I could do better – I really do – but that's all I can realistically promise you. I think I know you well enough at least to know that you don't want a lot of empty promises and bullshit."

Justin bit his lip in distress. "No, I don't want to be lied to or deceived," he confirmed stubbornly to the other man. "But I don't know how much more of this I can _take_. None of it seems to make any sense. You know what I dreamed about last night?" As Andrew shook his head, he advised him, "I dreamed I was in some house I didn't know and I was dancing around to some stupid, childhood song with a little, dark-haired boy. We were both holding hands and swinging each other around, having a great time. But you know what? The boy was calling me _Poppa_, like I was his _father_! How fucked up is _that_? How is that _possible_?"

Andrew looked at him, mirroring the other man's puzzlement. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "Maybe…..maybe this dream was all it was…..a dream. Maybe it's not based on reality. I mean, we don't always have dreams about things that actually have happened, or people we actually know. I have dreams all the time about dating Ben Affleck," he joked, trying to hopefully lighten the other man's mood somehow.

But his friend was not in a joking state of mind. "No, Andrew…..Don't ask me how I know, but I DO. This boy is _real_ – as real as you and me. I'm as sure of that as I was about being inside that club during the explosion." Justin shook his head with exasperation. "I just can't figure out how I could be that boy's _father._ It doesn't make sense to me." He suddenly stood up, almost wrenching his hand away from the other man's. "Hell, _none_ of this makes much fucking sense! I am so tired of dealing with _riddles_! When am I finally going to get some answers?" Before Andrew could answer, he snapped, "And _please……_don't give me that _it's only been less than a week_ crap!" He cradled his damaged left hand in his right as he walked up to the window to stand by it, once again gazing despairingly at the rain drops pelting the glass; an occasional flash of thunder lit up the black sky as he sighed forlornly.

He flinched a little in surprise as he felt two hands gently place themselves on his shoulders. He heard Andrew whisper in his ear, the man's breath warm on his skin as he murmured soothingly, "I wish I could give you the answers you need, Jacob. I won't patronize you with the same, worn-out responses. You'll just have to see what happens…..that's all I can really tell you. Hopefully, Dr. Michaels will have some information for you tomorrow after the MRI. At least now we'll have three of them for comparison, since Dr. Gray did one yesterday. I'll still feel better after the hospital neurosurgeon takes a look at it. He'll be able to more accurately determine if you're improving."

Justin slowly turned around to face the other, concern etched on his face. "And what if I'm _not_?" he asked him pointedly. "What then?"

Andrew tilted his face a little in thought. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "But it'll work out somehow. I really believe that. And I'm _not_ being patronizing here," he added firmly. "You have to _believe_ it, too." He gently squeezed Justin's shoulders before releasing him.

Justin sighed softly. "I'll try," he murmured. "I guess I don't have much choice, now, do I?" Glancing up at the clock on the opposite wall, he advised Andrew, "I'm kind of tired. I think I'll go on to bed."

Andrew nodded. "Do you want another sedative?"

Justin emitted a little laugh of scorn. "Why? If I don't take it, I don't sleep. And if I _do_, I keep having these fucking dreams that just leave me with more questions than answers. Which is better?" he lamented. Sighing again, he finally decided, "Okay…..give it to me. I guess some sleep is better than none at all, even if it _does_ leave me with all these unanswered questions."

Andrew reached inside his pocket and produced a mild barbiturate. His hand lingered a little longer than necessary as he handed the sedative to the other man before he pulled back. "Good night, Jacob. Wake me up if you need anything."

"I'll try _not_ to," Justin responded, as he turned to enter his bedroom. "I know you need some sleep, too." The doctor had been summoned to the hospital earlier for several hours of on-call emergency service, and only returned back home a few hours ago. "Good night, Andrew," Justin called out quietly before he gently closed the bedroom door.

Andrew stood transfixed at his spot near the window for several minutes after Jacob had retired to his bedroom, lost in thought. This past week was almost like a dream to him, too. It was hard to believe that Jacob had entered his life less than a week ago. Now he couldn't really imagine not having him nearby. He knew the man was very troubled by his memory loss, and that he no doubt had been living a full, productive life somewhere else. And probably with this _Brian_ person who seemed to occupy his every dream and artistic manifestation. But not for the first time, he again tried to envision what it might be like for him and Jacob to be living their lives _together_, even after he recovered his memory. He didn't want to give his friend false hope, but he truly believed all the dreams he had been having recently were a precursor to Jacob eventually regaining his memory. While he was not a neurological expert, he was hopeful that Jacob's condition was only temporary. He only hoped that when he _did_ regain his memory, he would still have a place in his life and maybe in his heart as well. Because as much as he was trying to deny it to himself, he was starting to care a great deal for this disturbed but passionate and intelligent man. Only time would tell what would happen.

Turning off the two table lamps near the couch, he cautiously made his way to the second bedroom, pausing just long enough to make sure it was quiet inside the other sleeping area before closing his own door in preparation for bed.

* * *

_Monday Morning – Toronto_

"You sure you don't want us to take you to the airport?" Lindsey asked Brian, who was zipping up his carryon bag.

He shook his head negatively. "No, but thanks. I'd just as soon say goodbye to Gus here at the house; it'd be petty fucking crazy at the airport, with it being a workday and all, and besides, he can't see me off, anyway, past the security checkpoint."

Lindsey nodded, inquiring softly, "Did you get any more sleep last night? You look a little more rested than when you got here, I think." She noticed, however, that he still had dark circles under his eyes, and the fire normally burning in the hazel orbs was decidedly muted. The last time she had seen him looking like he was currently was right after he had undergone his cancer surgery and was trying hard to hide what had happened to him; at least this time he wasn't trying to mask his pain from everyone who cared about him. _Justin had managed to change Brian in more ways than I think even HE knew_, she thought sadly.

Brian shook his head ruefully. "Not really," he admitted in a whisper. "I keep having these dreams….." As his friend looked at him curiously, he confessed, "It's stupid, I know. But in my dreams he's still alive. He feels so fucking _real_…..almost like I could still reach out and touch him." His eyes clouded over as he sadly murmured, admitting, "What I wouldn't give right now for just one more chance to do that," before he stood up as he noticed Gus rushing into the room.

"Daddy!" the boy cried as he tightly wrapped his arms around his father's thighs. "Do you really have to go?" he implored, his hazel eyes wide with sadness. "You just _got_ here!" he insisted, sticking his lower lip out in a decided pout as he stared up at the spitting image of himself.

Brian squatted down until he was eye to eye with his son. "I know, Sonny Boy," he soothed. "Your daddy hates to leave you, too," he reassured him, as his hand reached out to slowly caress the boy's nape, eliciting a ticklish giggle from him. Brian actually smiled then; he hadn't been able to smile ever since he had heard about Justin's accident, but his son had finally elicited one from him, albeit a small one. "Don't worry," he told his son. "I'll be back in a couple of weeks. It'll be here before you know it."

"Good," Gus answered. "Will you bring _Poppa_ with you, too, Daddy?" he asked eagerly.

Brian felt a sudden lump develop in his throat. _How I wish I could, Buddy. How I wish I could_. He looked up then and noticed Mel was now standing next to Lindsey, both women fighting back tears, just the same as he was. _What can I say? What SHOULD I say? _he furiously thought. He had made a promise to Lindsey and Mel to tell Gus the truth the next time he visited. The pain right now, though, was just too fresh; he just couldn't share the awful truth with his son yet. Making a conscious effort to not appear upset for his son's sake, he cleared his throat before replying, "I don't think that will be possible, Sonny Boy. But you know your Poppa loves you very much."

"So do I, Daddy. I love _you_, too," he responded, so solemnly for a six-year-old, as he wrapped his hands around his father's neck and gave him a hug; Brian almost lost his composure as he felt his son's soft, petite lips reach up and give him a somewhat slobbery kiss on his cheek. As Brian's hands returned his son's hug, he whispered, "I love you, too, Sonny Boy. Very much," before he finally released his hold on the little boy and stood up to face his two mothers.

"I'll be back in a couple of weeks," he told them in an unspoken confirmation of the promise he had made to them. He still had no idea how he would manage to get through telling his son about Justin, but he knew he owed it both to his son and to the man he loved to be the one to tell Gus the awful truth.

Lindsey reached over and gave her friend a brief kiss on the cheek and a hug, whispering in his ear, "I love you, Peter Pan. Call me if you need _anything_, okay? And please keep in touch. I worry about you," she admitted.

He nodded as he turned to Mel. She smiled slightly and said simply, "Take care, Brian. We'll see you in a couple of weeks." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Call us, or your son, anytime."

As he walked toward the front door, he turned briefly to see his son one last time. Gus blew him a kiss and waved his small hand as Brian bid him goodbye before opening the door and heading toward his waiting taxi.

* * *

_Monday Morning – Harrisburg General Hospital_

Justin felt an ironic sense of déjà vu as he waited once more in the patient registration area for his name to be called for his follow-up MRI test. The rows of chairs were almost fully occupied this time; his wait would no doubt be even longer than the first time he had been there. Clutching the silent vibrator in his right hand, he tried sitting in a chair for a while to read a magazine before he quickly became bored. He finally stood up and walked aimlessly around the corridors before eventually landing back at the adjacent children's ward.

As he opened the doors that led into the brightly-decorated room, he noticed a bulletin board tacked next to the entrance. A vividly-colored poster caught his eye as he read the heading on top advertising a hospital fundraiser being held in two days to benefit the children's wing. He was just about to turn back toward the testing waiting room when he heard a rather loud squeal.

"Look, Mommy! It's _him!_ The man who drew for me!" a little gir's voice explained. Justin turned and smiled in recognition at Kayla, the little blonde-haired girl he had drawn a picture for a week ago. She was holding the hand of a woman he recalled seeing with her before; no doubt this must be her mother – they looked so much alike.

"Kayla!" he greeted her warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"All better," she announced proudly. "My mommy gave me lots of ice cream!" She pointed up at the woman, who smiled back at her and then looked over at Justin.

"So _you're_ the talented artist who entertained my daughter last week," she surmised. "I'm glad we ran into you again – I wanted to thank you for your kindness. Kayla was so pleased with her work of art. And that's what it was, too…..it was very charming," she told him effusively. "That was very kind of you."

Justin blushed a little at the praise. "It was nothing, really," he told her modestly. "She looked a little down in the dumps; I'm glad it helped."

"Well, it certainly did," she assured him. "Kayla was understandably not feeling well before her operation, and was worried. You helped her feel a lot better about her surgery, and now she's got your picture proudly hanging up on her bedroom wall. Thank you again…….?"

"Jacob," Justin responded almost automatically. He almost recoiled in shock at how quickly the name spilled from his lips; was he giving up so readily on finding out his true identity? No, he firmly decided, making a conscious effort to not let himself get lulled so easily into accepting his current plight. He was NOT giving up on getting his life back.

"Well, Jacob, thank you again," he heard Kayla's mother saying, as his thoughts returned to the present. He smiled at Kayla and nodded as she said goodbye to him and mother and daughter left the wing hand in hand.

Just then the vibrator finally reverberated in his palm; somewhat nervously, he strode back out the double doors and up to the nearby patient registration desk to announce his presence. As he followed the nurse around to the testing area, he felt a sense of nervousness over what the results would show. He desperately hoped they would indicate improvement that would eventually lead to his most desired wish – to finally unlock the secrets tucked away in his brain.


	17. Chapter 17: Trying to Grasp Reality

_**A/N: Here is the next chapter - I know I'm driving you guys crazy because the two boys aren't together - I promise you they will be eventually....Brian's about to come to a shocking discovery, but alas, NOT in this chapter and maybe not in the next one.....I'm shooting for maybe a couple of chapters from now. Just like Justin's being asked in this story - I'm asking you to be just a little more patient. I assure you I'm getting there - I just have to set it up first.....! I am a dyed-in-the-wool B/J shipper without fail, so not to worry. I am NOT matching Justin up with his roommate......Thanks as always for reading and for the thoughtful feedback - it is greatly appreciated and lets me know someone is enjoying reading it, even if I AM torturing you presently - LOL!**_

* * *

_Harrisburg General Hospital_

Justin finally returned to the waiting area an hour later, feeling mentally exhausted from having to sit absolutely still for 45 minutes while they performed the MRI on his head. As he had lain prone inside the chamber, his mind kept playing back images, almost like it was a tape recorder. Side A was a recap of the past week as he recalled moments involving Andrew – fixing dinner, taking the trip to Pittsburgh, talking with him on the couch, and being comforted by him after he had had a particularly intense nightmare. Side B contained moments he had apparently had in the past with Brian – eating with him at a diner, fucking on a couch, riding with him in a jeep, fucking in the shower, dancing with him – apparently at Babylon, making love _and _fucking in bed, standing beside him while they talked and drank at some type of party, fucking against a pole, and so on and so on. Although he still felt more like a spectator rather than a participant when he thought of Brian, one thing was crystal clear: obviously Brian was a very _tactile_ person. Even now, Justin found himself blushing at the images that had invaded his mind earlier. Right now, though, all those images were splintered fragments of his memory – bits and pieces of his past experiences, but not yet enough of the total picture to be able to put it completely together.

He sighed as a feeling of incompletion invaded his body. "I know that sigh," he heard someone say behind him, as Andrew slowly walked up to join him and sit on an adjacent chair. "It's Jacob's _frustrated and impatient _sigh," he teased gently, at last obtaining a slight smile from his friend in return.

"That predictable, am I? That's quite an accomplishment, considering I can't remember much. I'm sure in my past I was an _extremely_ patient man," he insisted, knowing that neither Andrew nor he believed one word of it. He twisted his face in distaste before the other man had a chance to counter that statement. "Never mind," he decided quickly. "Even I know that's most likely NOT the truth."

Andrew grinned. "I didn't say a thing," he stated. "I didn't have to, actually."

"Have you heard anything?" Justin asked him anxiously.

Andrew shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he said regretfully. "You would think being a doctor here would have some pull with the interpreting radiologist. He pretty much, though, told me to take a number and get in line. Asshole," he grumbled in irritation. "I've got a page in to Dr. Michaels to see if he can speed the guy up with the results, but he's in surgery right now so I haven't had a chance to speak with him yet." He studied his friend carefully for a few seconds. "You look tired. I take it the sedative didn't help much last night?"

"Are you asking as my doctor or my friend?" Justin asked.

Andrew smiled sympathetically. "Both, I guess," he confirmed.

"Well, it really doesn't matter, because the answer is still no," Justin admitted. "I slept for a little while, but the dreams kept waking me up. There's all these images racing through my mind, but it's just bits and pieces. Nothing still makes much sense."

"Well, I thought instead of you just waiting around here in the registration area, you'd prefer to go back to the apartment and wait. I've got a few minutes before I start my next rounds, so I can take you over there right now if you want."

Justin smiled appreciatively. "Yeah, you're right – I would prefer that," he decided, standing up slowly along with Andrew. "Besides, I'd like to try working on that other canvas you brought me. I think if I put it on top of the kitchen table like I did the other day, I can still paint even with my one arm in the sling." Justin's flexible cast was currently nestled inside a sling to help keep it immobilized. It had been giving him twinges of pain on occasion, but thanks to the pain medication, presently it was proving to be more of a nuisance than anything. _Of course, if I hadn't been an absolute IDIOT,_ he thought ruefully, _I wouldn't BE in this situation._

Andrew grabbed his arm gently. "Oh….that reminds me, Jacob. I have a favor to ask you."

"Anything," Justin instantly responded. After all, this man had already gone well above and beyond the past week for _him_.

"Well, it's about the children's wing; it's always been kind of a pet project of mine," Andrew confided to him. "My sister spent a lot of time growing up in the hospital with a congenital birth defect, so I developed a lot of respect for anyone who cares for children," he explained. "The hospital here is having a benefit in a couple of days with the funds going entirely toward renovation of the children's play lounge. I was hoping I could persuade you to contribute your painting toward the auction they're having after the dinner that night."

"My _painting?_" Justin asked, confused. "You mean the one I painted the other day? Why would you want _that_?" he asked modestly.

"Are you _kidding_ me, Jacob? It's incredible! I think it'd be a real showstopper, and could bring the benefit quite a bit of money," he advised the other man confidently.

Justin frowned, unconvinced. "Come on," he said in disbelief.

"No, _really_," Andrew insisted. "It's quite striking. Believe me, Jacob, I think it would bring a tidy little sum for the wing. Would you be willing to donate it?"

Justin continued to stare at him doubtfully. "If you really think it would help," he finally responded, still doubtful of Andrew's confidence in his abilities. "Of course I'd be willing to contribute it. But I think you're exaggerating its worth."

As the two of them proceeded out into the lobby toward the parking lot, Andrew replied, "Well, I don't think so. You just might be surprised," he added, as Justin merely shrugged his shoulders, still not swayed.

"Well," Justin decided. "I guess no matter _how_ much it brings, even one dollar will be that much more for the children's wing. I'm glad to help out in any case," he answered sincerely.

Andrew smiled as they entered his car. "Good," he said. "I can bring it back with me after I drop you off, if that's okay."

Justin nodded. "Whatever you want to do."

* * *

_Kinnetik – Monday afternoon_

"Brian," Cynthia greeted her boss, a little surprised. "Ted didn't think you'd be back until later today," she explained, as the brunet entered the main lobby of Kinnetik. After the past week, she really hadn't expected her boss to come back to work quite so soon, but maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised. She figured the last place he probably wanted to be right now was at his loft, which contained far too many memories of Justin. She figured he would be staying with Michael and Ben indefinitely until he made up his mind what to do with his own living quarters.

"I decided to come back a little early," he replied rather curtly.

Cynthia did not take Brian's brusqueness personally; she knew how hard the past week had been on him. Instead, she asked solicitously, "How was your trip to Toronto?"

"Fine," Brian answered automatically. He was actually only half-listening to her as he picked up his mail on a nearby table and leafed through it. "Where's Theodore?" he asked her, as he dropped several pieces of junk mail into a nearby wastebasket and finally turned his attention back to his assistant.

"He's still at Babylon….I mean, _Pulse_," she corrected herself. Before Brian had a chance to ask, she confirmed, "They finished with the renovations this morning. He's just meeting with the building inspectors for the final walk through so he can obtain the occupancy permit for it to reopen tonight."

"Good," Brian answered her. "Go ahead and give me the check for the contractor and I'll run it over so I can take a look at it myself."

"Got it right here," she verified, anticipating that was what he would want to do once he returned. As she handed him the envelope containing the payment, she noticed how sunken Brian's eyes looked and how haunted they still appeared. Justin's death was obviously hitting him extremely hard. She didn't have the heart at the moment to even ask him if he had told Gus yet about the other man's death; every mention of Justin's name seemed to inflict a fresh wave of grief upon him.

"I'll be back later," he advised her, as he quickly picked up his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulder before walking back out the lobby door. Cynthia watched him sympathetically as he left before thoughtfully sitting back down in her desk chair.

* * *

_Pulse – Pittsburgh_

Brian drove down the narrow street and slowed in front of the newly-renovated club, lost in thought. Thoughts of all the times he and Justin had walked this alleyway after coming out of the club came unbidden to his mind – times when they were high on E, Beam, each other, or a combination of all of the above. He could still hear Justin's laughter and melodic, excited voice in his mind as if it were yesterday instead of a week ago. _God – Had it only been a WEEK? It seemed more like a lifetime by now._ He had never realized how much he had come to depend on hearing Justin's voice until the accident. How much he missed hearing the love in his partner's voice, his sense of humor and the way he could make his heart melt in an instant just by the way he said his name over the phone. He knew it sounded extremely pitiful, but he had tried several times since the accident to call Justin's cell phone on the remote chance that somehow the call would go through and he could at least hear his partner's voice speaking on the recorded message; how he longed to hear his voice just one more time. But his wish was not to be; he was never able to get his call to go through. Sadly, the phone had apparently been lost along with his heart's most treasured possession – Justin.

As he stopped in front of the familiar but now different-looking building, he took a brief moment to close his eyes as a new stab of pain crept into his heart. How long this terrible feeling would last, he had no way of knowing. But if the depth of loss he was experiencing was any indication, it might well be a lifetime before it went away.

He sighed and opened his eyes, turning to focus his attention instead on the new _Pulse_. He had to admit – if he hadn't known this was the address, he never would have guessed it used to be Babylon. The entire front façade of the building had been totally redone. Gone were the white neon letters indicating the club's name at night and the dark, navy exterior paint. In its place was a silver, art-deco curved sign spelling out the name of the club in a design reminiscent of an EKG wave pattern, with chrome trim and smoothly-painted, black walls. The steps outside echoed the new techno design with a curved, stainless steel banister leading up to the matching chrome door.

Brian stepped out of his 'Vette and walked up to the front entrance, taking a few seconds to place his hand on the smooth, cold metal surface. He turned the door handle and walked inside to a totally unfamiliar sight. The lights were turned up at the moment, so he had a good view of all the changes that had been made. The two-tier bar was lit up with track lighting just underneath both of the counters, and the black lacquered wood dance floor was slowly revolving as lights traveled and pulsed in time with the techno music currently blaring from the speakers; the sound system was apparently being taken through a test run in preparation for the grand reopening later that evening.

"Brian!" he heard his name being called over the din of the music. "You're back," Ted greeted him, as he turned away from a couple of men holding clipboards in their hands.

"Astute as always, Theodore," Brian observed sarcastically. "Have we got the green light for the club yet?"

Ted nodded. "They just signed off on it," he confirmed, smiling. "We're right on track for tonight as scheduled," he assured him. As one of the men approached him and handed him a signed certificate, he nodded to them before they left through the back entrance of the club. "That's the last hurdle. We're good to go for the reopening at 11:00 tonight, just as you had planned."

Brian had to admit – Ted had followed through with his wishes just as he had asked. The man was continuing to prove that he could be counted upon when needed. "Thanks," Brian told him simply, earning a surprised look and then a smile from the other man.

"Anytime," Ted told him sincerely. He was glad to help Brian out – he knew how much the man was still hurting over Justin's death. He felt it was the least he could do, also, after Brian had gone out on a limb a few years ago and offered him a job when no one else would touch him. He would never forget how much that had changed his life for the better, and he was determined to continue to prove that Brian's trust in him was not unfounded.

Brian simply nodded his appreciation. "Here's the bonus for the contractor. I assume he's here somewhere? I imagine he wasn't planning on going anywhere before he was paid in full," he surmised.

"He's just finishing up a few last-minute minor touches," Ted verified, as he accepted the outstretched envelope from his boss. "I'll make sure he gets it as soon as he's done – should only be a few more minutes now." He studied the brunet thoughtfully. "So how do you like the changes? Is it what you had in mind?"

Brian looked around to take it all in before slowly nodding. "It's not bad," he said in his characteristically neutral tone. "It will do. I have to admit – you did what I asked. I don't recognize any of it, which was exactly what I wanted. Not bad," he repeated.

"Good," Ted responded. "Will you be back later for the opening?" he asked the other man curiously. He wasn't sure how Brian felt about returning to the place where he and Justin had had so many good memories, as well as a few bad ones, too.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose; the tension was evident in his eyes as he tried to decide what he wanted to do. He finally made up his mind as he turned to the other man and advised, "No…..I think I'll leave it in your and Bart's capable hands. I'll come back later in the week. You _did_ keep him on as the club manager, didn't you?" he asked pointedly. Bart had been hired about a year ago to look after the club, and had proved to be indispensible in keeping the club's operation running smoothly. It had also allowed Brian to spend more time concentrating on making Kinnetik more profitable, with the eventual intention of hiring more people to free up his own time to spend it with Justin. Of course, that dream had now been totally destroyed. He turned his attention back to Ted as he heard the man speaking.

"Yeah, he'll be here. If it's okay, I'll come in just long enough to make sure everything's up and running properly and then I'll cut out. My boss expects me at work bright and early," he teased.

"No," Brian corrected him. "Your boss realizes you've gone beyond your normal job responsibilities this week and is hereby allowing you to sleep in late tomorrow. He'll expect you in at noon."

Ted smiled gratefully, more than a little surprised by the compliment. "Tell my boss I said thanks," he said softly. Brian merely nodded before he turned to leave. For a few seconds, he stood there, gathering his thoughts, before he opened the front door and walked out.

* * *

_Harrisburg – Calhoun Street Apartment - Evening_

"Jacob?" Andrew shrugged off his doctor's jacket and opened the closet door to hang it up.

"I'm over here," he heard his roommate answer him. Walking into the kitchen area, he saw the blond stirring something in a large pot. "I thought I told you that you didn't have to keep cooking for me," Andrew told him reproachfully, as he leaned over the other man's shoulder to take a whiff. "But now that you have…..what is _it_?" he asked curiously, observing that whatever it was, it smelled pretty good.

"I found it in one of your cookbooks, and you had all the ingredients. It's called Souper Spaghetti Supper – kind of like spaghetti cooked in one pot," he explained, as he reached in to scoop up a wooden spoonful of the sauce and hold it out for the other man to try it.

"Mmmm," Andrew murmured as his tongue reached out to take a taste. "Not bad," he exclaimed.

For a few seconds, he observed Jacob once again with a déjà vu look in his eyes. "Another memory?" he asked softly.

Justin twisted his mouth. "Yeah," he told the other man, as he became lost in thought for a few seconds. "I think Brian used to say that quite a bit when he liked something."

Andrew nodded in understanding. Trying to bite back the irrational jealousy he felt for a man he hadn't even met, he cleared his throat. "Well, I'm going to go get changed before we eat. But before I do….turn that down and come over and sit with me. I have a copy of the MRI results from Dr. Michaels. He _did_ manage to lit a fuse under that radiologist's ass and get the interpretation pushed through as a priority."

Justin turned the knob on the stove quickly to a simmer setting and turned around, his hands trembling. "What did it say, Andrew?" he asked urgently.

"Come and sit down for a minute," the doctor repeated softly, gently taking the other man's right hand and pulling him toward the couch. "I've got a copy of the results on the coffee table."

"It's bad, isn't it?" Justin asked fearfully, immediately jumping to conclusions as he anxiously followed the other man over to the couch and sat down.

Andrew turned to face the other man as they both sat facing each other. He picked up two sheets of paper before speaking. He began, "It's not that it's bad particularly."

"What the _fuck_ does THAT mean?" Justin growled. "Just get to the point, Andrew. Don't sugarcoat it," he demanded.

Andrew looked down for a few seconds, as if he were gathering his thoughts. "Andrew?" he heard Jacob say. He raised his eyes before speaking again. "Like I said, Jacob, it's not that it's particularly bad. In fact, Dr. Michaels said there was apparently no residual damage from your incident in Pittsburgh, which is definitely good. And he did not detect any bleeding in the area of the brain, which is also an encouraging sign."

"Then why do I think there's a _but_ in there somewhere, Andrew?" Justin accused him. "What _aren't_ you telling me?"

Andrew sighed softly. "Nothing, Jacob…..really. That's about it. The swelling _has _definitely decreased – the two MRIs from last week and today are definitive about that. That's a good sign. But Dr. Michaels is a little concerned that you haven't regained more of your memory in proportion to the improvement with the swelling."

"Concerned _how_?" Justin pressed.

"Well, he feels if your memory hasn't progressed any more than it has by now…….." Justin noticed the definite hesitation in his friend's voice before he took a breath and finished his sentence. "…….He feels there's a good chance you may never fully regain your memory of past events." Andrew looked uncomfortable as he noticed Jacob's face contorting in pain and disappointment. "I'm sorry, Jacob," he replied softly.

Justin looked up at the ceiling, trying hard to prevent the tears from escaping that were suddenly welling up in his eyes. "How can he be sure?" he asked plaintively, his heart beating furiously as sadness threatened to overcome him.

"_No_ one can be sure," Andrew advised. "But Dr. Michaels has studied similar cases of memory loss before, and in the large majority of cases, if a patient's memory hasn't returned at least partially within a few days of the incident, normally it never _does_ return, at least fully. But people can go on to live productive, fulfilling lives without their previous memories intact – it happens all the time," he said encouragingly.

"But I don't _want_ to live my life by starting over!" Justin cried, as tears now fell unabated down his cheeks. "I want to know where I came from, what I was doing with my life, who my friends were, who I loved, _everything_!" In despair he finally placed his head down in his uninjured hand and wept silently for his loss – a loss he partially remembered but couldn't fully understand. Now it seemed he never would.

"Don't cry, Jacob," Andrew pleaded, his heart breaking for the other man as he observed the blond's profound sorrow. "Please don't cry." The brunet tentatively reached his hand to place it on Jacob's cheek and turn the tear-filled face toward his. As if drawn to his friend by a magnet, he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the soft, pink lips, his hand coming to rest at the other man's neck. He felt Jacob pulling back a bit in surprise, just before he felt the blond's mouth come crashing back down urgently upon his own. Groaning a little at the electric jolt of contact, Andrew snaked his tongue out uncertainly to lick the lush, lower lip of his roommate, asking for deeper contact and receiving an opening mouth in response. As his tongue explored the hot, wet interior of Jacob's mouth, he relished in the feel of the soft, silky blonde hair at his nape as he became briefly lost in the exhilarating feel of their kiss.

He just as suddenly, though, broke off the kiss as a feeling of guilt washed over him. Pulling back from the other man, he whispered apologetically, "Jacob…..I'm so sorry. I……I didn't mean for that to happen. Shit…..I shouldn't have done that." He shook his head, trying to will his body to calm down and his heart to return to normal. His attraction for the other man was undeniable, but he didn't want Jacob this way. Not while he was vulnerable and broken.

"No…….no," Justin stammered in return awkwardly, his voice breaking. "It's…….okay. It's not your fault. Forget it," he replied softly, turning his head away. He couldn't deny that he had wanted the kiss, at least for a few seconds anyway, to help him forget his pain and to somehow receive comfort from at least _someone_ he was familiar with. But now it somehow felt like a betrayal of some sort.

He stood up to place some distance from the other man. "I……I think I'll go check on our dinner," he stated nervously, as he slowly walked back into the kitchen. He took a deep breath to steady himself before turning around to the stove and picking up the wooden spoon to stir the pot's ingredients. After a few seconds, he heard Andrew's bedroom door closing and the shower water running.

He had placed two plates filled with the spaghetti and a piece of garlic bread on the table just before he heard the bedroom door opening. Andrew, newly changed into jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt, quietly walked up the table and sat down. A heavy silence lingered for several seconds before Andrew finally spoke up. "I want to apologize again for what I did, Jacob," he stated. "I shouldn't have done that."

Justin stared down at his food, still uncomfortable over what he had allowed to transpire earlier. He felt he was just as much at fault as the other man. "No need to apologize," he insisted softly. "You were just trying to comfort me," he added understandingly.

"No, it wasn't just that," Andrew countered truthfully, his voice barely above a whisper. "I……I have to be honest with you, Jacob. I'm……attracted to you." Justin looked at him intently as he continued, "That still doesn't make what I did right. But I wanted you to know how I feel. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, though," he assured the other man. "I won't try anything like that again….not unless you want me to. I just want you to know how I feel, that's all."

"Andrew…….." Justin began tentatively, trying to find the right words. "I appreciate what you've done for me more than you'll ever know – I think you know that. And I appreciate your honesty. So I have to be honest with _you_, too…..I know what Dr. Michaels told you. But I'm _not_ giving up. He may have told you that the majority of people with my kind of memory loss don't get all of their past memory back, but I _know_ it's in my head somewhere. These dreams I have are not just a figment of my imagination. And I intend to get them _back_. I _have_ to. Somewhere out there is a man who I love and who loves me. And I don't intend to stop until I find out just who and where he is. Until I do.....there can't be room for anyone else. I hope you understand."

Andrew gazed back at the other man for a few seconds before nodding. "I do……I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I _do_ understand. And you know I'll help you any way I can."

Justin smiled gratefully. "I know you will." The two of them began eating in a companionable silence for a few minutes until Justin suddenly thought of something. "Andrew……What about the hypnosis? You mentioned that to me a few days ago. Would that help me?"

Andrew studied that idea thoughtfully. "I'm not sure," he stated. "It might be worth a try, though…."

For the first time that night, Justin actually felt a small sliver of hope. "Can you check into it tomorrow for me?" He frowned, however, as a thought occurred to him. "I have no _fucking_ idea how I can possibly afford it, though."

Before Justin could lose his only lifeline of the night, Andrew assured him, "Don't worry….we'll find a way. They do have some grants available at the hospital to help out financially when needed. I'll see what I can do tomorrow." He swallowed the last bite of his garlic bread and smiled. "This was good. Sure you don't want to be a full-time chef?" he teased gently.

Justin smiled a little at last, feeling just a bit more optimistic. "No, thanks," he replied. "You can never get good help with the cooking."

"Right," Andrew laughed, remembering his memorable encounter with the mixer earlier. "Don't worry – I'll be sticking with medicine from now on."


	18. Chapter 18:Disbelief and Fate

_Kinnetik – LateTuesday Morning_

"Brian?" Cynthia called out softly from the office doorway. "There's someone asking to see you. Says it's really important."

Brian tried to act like he was being sorely interrupted from his work as he shifted his gaze from the laptop to his assistant; if he was being honest with himself, however, he hadn't really been able to concentrate on what he was supposed to be researching. He found himself instead reading the same page over and over again in between his constant thoughts of Justin. He had hoped being back at work would help to keep his mind off him, but he had been mainly unsuccessful. Even here in his relatively safe sanctuary, he could still feel his lover's presence. His mind kept going back to so many occasions when Justin had been here – the day he had held his grand opening for Kinnetik, Justin proudly by his side. The day he had made plans to have his surgery, and despite his half-hearted attempt to push Justin away, his partner had declared that he still loved him and would be waiting when he got back – and he _was_. The time a few days after they had mailed out their wedding announcements and the two of them stood together with Emmett, making plans for a wedding that ultimately, sadly, would not take place, and Justin asked for those rare golden gardenias that only grew in China of all places. But back then, Brian would have literally gone to the ends of the earth to do whatever it took to make Justin happy. Because when Justin was happy, _he _was happy. So fucking happy. Happier than he ever thought was possible.

"Brian?" He didn't realize Cynthia was patiently waiting for his response still, as his eyes refocused back on his assistant. Wearily he asked her, "Who is it, Cynthia?"

"It's Blake…..Ted's boyfriend," she announced, puzzlement apparent in her voice. "But he asked to speak with you, _not_ him," she verified. "Should I bring him back?"

Brian's brow creased into a frown. Why the fuck would Blake ask to see _him_? Did he think he wasn't treating his boyfriend properly? Was he here to ask him to give Ted a raise? Finally shaking his head futilely, he instructed Cynthia, "What the hell…..bring him in." She nodded briefly and turned to retrieve the visitor.

A few minutes later, she knocked perfunctorily on Brian's door and moved aside to let Blake enter. The blond, slender man was noticeably nervous when he slowly strode into the room as Cynthia quietly shut the door, leaving the two men alone.

Brian silently motioned for Blake to sit in one of the visitor chairs; when the man didn't say anything after several seconds, Brian's eyebrows rose and he uttered a simple "Well?"

Blake fidgeted in his chair and Brian felt he was deliberating averting his eyes to avoid looking directly at him. Blake continued to remain mute until Brian growled, "I repeat…….What do you want? Sure you aren't in the wrong office? Theodore doesn't get in today until noon, by the way," Brian informed him curtly.

"I know," Blake finally uttered softly. "Teddy and I live together now."

Brian was quickly running out of patience with the other man. "Okay……so again…..what the _fuck_ do you want?" he demanded. "I DO have work to do here." He steepled his fingers and placed his elbows on the desk, staring intently at the other man as part intimidation and part invitation to get on with his task.

"I…..I know," Blake stammered. He was quickly questioning the intelligence of coming here to talk to Brian; the man was normally difficult to deal with anyway, but the subject matter he was about to bring up was going to make his previous encounters with the man look like a walk in the park compared to _this_ encounter. "I….I need to talk to you...... about something that happened yesterday afternoon at Babylon…..I, I mean _Pulse_," he finally managed to struggle out. "Teddy told me not to, but it's all I've thought about since then. I KNOW who I saw."

Brian's head was beginning to pound as he tried to decipher what the fuck this man was babbling about. "Look……I suggest you get to the fucking point now or I'm going to bodily throw you out!" he snarled.

"This isn't _easy_," Blake tried to explain, his heart beating rapidly, partly out of fear and partly out of nervousness. "Okay," he said, his hands coming out in a show of truce. "Let me explain," he pleaded, temporarily relieved when Brian, who was about to stand up, slowly sat back down, still glaring at him. "I was bringing Teddy some lunch yesterday at your club just after noon and I had to park about a half block down the street because of all the construction trucks parked nearby. I got out of my car and started to walk around to the back of the club when I heard a couple of guys yelling at each other." _Here goes nothing_, Blake thought, holding his breath temporarily. "They were standing in front of your club, and then walked back to their car and started to drive off. That's when I got a good look at him," he informed him.

Brian huffed out an exasperated breath. "I am _SO_ tired of this game of twenty questions," he informed the other man, now highly annoyed. "Will you fucking get to the _point?! WHO did you see?" he snarled sarcastically. "The president of the United States?"_

"Justin," he blurted out suddenly and clearly. Despite Brian's shocked, stunned expression, his voice lowered and he repeated, whispering this time, "Justin. _That's_ who I saw."

At the mention of his lover's name, Brian's face went ashen. Nothing could have prepared him for what Blake had just said. His hands began to shake with rage as he slowly rose from his chair to glare at the other man, who shrunk back from the eyes that were solid black now with fury. Speaking initially in a deadly quiet voice, Brian answered, the volume slowly rising with each syllable, "I don't know what type of fucking sick joke you're playing, or what your drug of choice happens to be at the moment, but you have five seconds to get the _FUCK out of my office before I rip one of your goddamn balls off and THROW YOU OUT!!" _

Blake almost knocked his chair over as he rose quickly and recoiled at the sight of the other man now leaning over his desk; he was sure the man would cock his fist back at any moment in preparation for throwing a punch at him. "You don't understand!" Blake cried out, as he slowly leaned away from Brian's reach. "I'm trying to _help _you!" he insisted, now beginning to walk backward toward the office door.

"_Help _me?!" Brian screamed. "You're trying to _HELP ME_?!" He laughed loudly now, his voice full of scorn and irony. "Every mention of his name is like a knife twisting in my gut, and you say you're trying to _HELP ME?! GET THE FUCK OUT- NOW!!!" _he yelled, thoroughly outraged. Brian's face flushed deep red with anger, the veins clearly evident in his neck, as he fought to control the spontaneous impulse to strangle the other man where he stood. If he did not leave his office in the next five seconds, Brian truly felt he would be capable of doing just that. The absolute, fucking GALL this man possessed in order to come into his office and weave this sick, cruel lie about the only man he ever loved was unfathomable to him.

"Brian!" Cynthia appeared suddenly at his now open doorway, followed closely by a flustered and shocked Ted.

"Blake! What are you _doing_?! I TOLD you to drop it, didn't I?" Ted asked the other man, who quickly rushed over to his boyfriend for both protection and comfort.

"I……I'm sorry, Teddy," Blake whispered, deflated. "I really was trying to help."

"Get him the FUCK out NOW while he still has his BALLS and you still have a JOB!" Brian screamed at the top of his lungs. He began to walk toward the two men and Cynthia when Ted made a wise decision to push Blake out the door and down the hallway out of Brian's sight and reach.

Brian stood in the middle of his office, shaking with uncontrolled rage, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. _Could his pain get any worse?_, he thought miserably, closing his eyes as he felt Cynthia reaching out to grasp his sleeve. He slowly opened them then and tried to focus on his assistant's soft brown ones, which were presently peering at him with both concern and sympathy. "Breathe, Brian," she simply said as she slowly steered him toward the couch at the side of the room. "Take a deep breath."

He allowed her to push him gently down onto the couch as she joined him. She sat with him for a few minutes in silence, somehow knowing that he didn't have the strength or inclination to say anything. After all, what could be said? What could have possessed the man to come into his office with such an outrageous claim? He shook his head, still too shocked at the man's utter audacity.

Finally, he whispered to Cynthia, "Why? Why would he _do _that? Did he get some kind of exciting thrill out of kicking the great Brian Kinney when he's down? Well, I've got _news_ for him, Cynthia. I'm as down as I could ever fucking get right now." He rubbed his hands over his face with exhaustion and despair. At that moment, he doubted if his nightmare would ever truly end.

"I don't have an answer for you, Brian," Cynthia whispered helplessly. From what little contact she had had with Ted's boyfriend, she thought Blake was honestly trying to straighten his life out, just like Ted had done. Now she had serious doubts about that. Nothing could justify what the man had just done to her boss.

"Would you get me some Beam?" Brian asked her quietly, still trying to slow his breathing down from his tirade. He let out a loud exhalation of breath while he tightly grasped both of his hands in his lap.

Cynthia rose and quickly located the liquor bottle. Efficiently emptying some into a nearby glass, she walked over and placed it in Brian's trembling hand.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked quietly as she continued to stand over him.

Brian managed a very slight smile of thanks, grateful for the constant loyalty and friendship of his longtime assistant. "No…..It's okay. Go back to your desk. I just want to be alone for a little while." He quickly gulped down a large shot of the amber liquid, yearning for a major burn as it went down his throat to help take his mind off other things.

Cynthia looked at him for a few seconds intently, then nodded. "Okay…..Call me if there's anything else I can do." She started to walk toward the door before she turned around and paused. "I'm sure Ted didn't have anything to do with this, Brian."

Brian looked over at her. It really wasn't important at the moment. But he DID want to know just what Ted knew about his boyfriend's stunt just now. He decided, though, that it could wait until later. Right now he just wanted to forget about everything…….God help him, even Justin. Just for a little while. Just to ease his pain.

As Cynthia quietly closed his door, leaving him in the privacy of his office, he placed the glass down on the side table and lay down on the couch. Despite his eyes being closed, it was not enough to prevent the tears from escaping down his cheeks as the relative darkness enveloped him.

* * *

_Harrisburg General Hospital – Tuesday afternoon_

"Hey, Michelle! Karen told me I might find you down here. How's the benefit coming?" Andrew asked her as she observed him carrying a large package wrapped in plain brown paper under his arm. He had asked the charge nurse upstairs where she was and was told she was down here in the large banquet room in the hospital's basement. He and Michelle had become even better acquainted recently when they had both volunteered to be committee members for the upcoming dinner and auction for the children's wing.

"It's going good," she verified, smiling at him in greeting. She continued to eye the rather large, flat package the doctor was carrying. "What's that?" she asked curiously.

He smiled back at her. "It's a donation for the benefit," he told her. "You've got to see it," he urged her. She walked over to him as he gingerly set it down so he could slowly rip the paper away from the contents.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, as the painting's vibrant, dramatic colors were exposed. "That's incredible! Who painted it?" she asked him.

He grinned broadly. "You're never going to believe it. It's someone you know."

"Me?" she asked him skeptically. "Who?"

Smiling somewhat mysteriously, he simply instructed her, "Read the signature in the corner."

He noticed her stunned expression as she realized who the artist was. "_Jacob_ _Martin_?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "As in my former favorite patient and your current roommate, Jacob Martin?" When Andrew nodded in confirmation, she let out a whistle of appreciation. "I had _no_ idea he was so talented…..this is really good," she raved appreciatively as her eyes swept over the abstract work.

Andrew nodded in agreement. "I know," he replied. "While he was waiting for the results of his first MRI a week ago, I found him over at the children's lounge helping a little girl there to draw a picture. I managed to get a look at it and was absolutely amazed by his artistic skill. I bought him some art supplies a few days later to try and help keep his mind occupied, and this was one of the results. It _is_ impressive , isn't it? And he was happy to donate it for the benefit, although he had doubts about how much money it would bring." He stared at the dynamic and passionate painting before adding, "He may have doubts, but _I_ don't. It's _fantastic_. If it doesn't bring a tidy sum, I would be shocked," he vowed firmly.

"I agree," Michelle responded as she, too, continued to stare mesmerized at the composition. "He's way too modest. This is wonderful. I'm going to talk my husband into letting me bid on this one for myself. I would _love_ to have it." She finally turned away from the painting to look at the doctor. "Just _how_ is he, Andrew?"

Andrew sighed softly. "Without going into a lot of detail – patient confidentiality and all," he explained as she nodded her understanding, "he's okay, but still upset over the lack of improvement. I tease him all the time over how impatient he always is," he told her, smiling wistfully. "But I can certainly understand his frustration. It's just that he's afflicted with a particularly tricky condition that we don't know a whole lot about. We're kind of flying blind here, no matter how many times it's happened in the past. Until we know more about how the brain functions, we'll _continue_ to fall short, unfortunately." He shook his head empathetically. "I feel sorry for him. He's a really nice guy."

Michelle's lips turned upward in amusement. "Yeah….he is. I see you've discovered that, too," she said knowingly, smiling a little at him now.

Andrew blushed slightly. "Now don't go getting ideas, _Nurse_." As she continued to stare pointedly at him, he sighed again. "Okay," he confessed. I _do_ like him….a _lot_. But I also know he's pretty messed up right now. No matter how I feel about him, I'm not going to take advantage of him being so vulnerable. It wouldn't be fair – to him OR to me."

"You're a good man, too, Andrew," she told him gently. "I hope things work out for _both_ of you."

"I hope so, too," he agreed. "But I have a feeling his heart is already reserved for someone else."

* * *

Ted steered his boyfriend somewhat roughly into the men's room. "Just what the _hell_ were you thinking?!" he snarled at the smaller man as he stood angrily facing him.

"I'm _sorry_, Teddy!" Blake cried. "But I won't say I _regret_ it! I mean, I'm sorry if it gets you into trouble with Brian, but he needed to _know_!" the man insisted.

"Know _what_?" Ted asked. "That you're _delusional_? The man's DEAD, Blake! For God's sake – let him rest in peace and let Brian at least _try_ to get on with his own life! Can't you see how much pain he's in?" Ted began to pace restlessly. "He would never admit it, but he is. How could you do that?" he continued to press the other man.

"Teddy," Blake pleaded. "I know it sounds crazy, even to me, but I know what I SAW, and it was definitely _Justin!_ Not a double – him! Why won't anyone _believe_ me?"

"Again – maybe because it's not fucking _possible_!" Ted repeated furiously. "You've done enough damage – now drop it!" he demanded. He brushed his hand through his hair in exasperation. "I have to get back to work…..provided I still have a _job_," he growled, his voice an octave lower now. "I suggest you leave – quickly and quietly – while Brian's still in his office. Go," he demanded, pushing the other man more gently now toward the bathroom's main door.

Defeated and resigned, Blake nodded as he slowly walked with Ted out to the lobby. "Okay, Teddy," he said sadly. "I won't bring it up again," he promised. Just before he opened the office's door to exit, however, he whispered. "But I know what I saw."

* * *

_Harrisburg – Calhoun Street Apartment – Tuesday Evening_

"Hey," Justin greeted Andrew as the doctor returned from a rather long day of rounds. "You look beat," he observed.

Andrew nodded. "Very astute, Mr. Martin," he confirmed. "Had two gunshot victims come in – one was barely a teenager." He shook his head in irritation. "One of her friends was playing around with a gun – they never learn."

Justin asked, shocked, "Is she going to be okay?"

"Not sure…..they've still got her in the ICU. Said they'd call if they needed me to come back in." He noticed Jacob had the second canvas splayed out on the coffee table and was working on another painting. "That reminds me," he said, nodding toward the partially-finished composition. "I ran into Michelle downstairs when I took your painting in for the benefit – you know, your nurse?" Justin nodded as he recalled the compassionate woman who had first tended to him after his injury. "She's on the committee for the benefit, too. She took one look at your painting and vowed to do her best to outbid everyone else. She thought it was phenomenal, just like me."

Justin blushed but beamed at the compliment. "She did?" he asked somewhat shyly.

Andrew smiled. "She sure did. Said she was going home to browbeat her husband into letting her bid on it…..Oh, sorry, Jacob. Shit. What a poor choice of words."

Justin shook his head. "Don't worry about it….I know what you meant. That's great, though. Maybe it will bring _two_ bucks instead of one," he remarked, tongue in cheek.

"It'll bring more than that," Andrew insisted, as he walked closer to the other man to examine his current work. If he liked the first piece Jacob had drawn, he was absolutely blown away by _this _one. It showed an attractive, dark-haired man dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and a sleeveless black shirt, sitting on the arm of a couch with a young boy who was a miniature, spitting image of him. Both had the same hazel eyes flecked with gold and the same smile. The boy was sitting on the man's lap and was being tenderly cradled by the man's long, elegant arms. The love on both of their faces was obvious.

"Jacob…..This is unbelievable," Andrew murmured in amazement as he stood next to the other man. "The detail is _incredible_…..And it's so lifelike. I feel like I could almost reach out and touch them." He was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, "This is Brian, isn't it?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer; he had certainly seen the man in enough drawings in Jacob's sketchpad by now to know without a doubt who it was. As Justin nodded yes, he inquired, "And the boy? He looks so much like your Brian. His son?"

Justin shook his head in frustration. "I……I'm not sure, actually. That's the way I have it in my head – Brian and this boy together. But what I don't understand is why he's the same boy in my dreams that calls me _Poppa_. I had another dream about him last night – I was reading him some kind of bedtime story, just the two of us. He was laughing and giggling like he was having the time of his life, and he called me _Poppa _again. Why would he do that if he's _Brian's_ son?" He scrunched up his face in confusion. "Damn! I _hate_ this!" Suddenly he recalled his and Andrew's conversation last night. "Andrew…..that reminds me. What about the hypnosis? Did you find out anything today?"

Andrew nodded. "As a matter of fact, I did. I was so busy down in the ER today I almost forgot. I talked to the business office about your situation and they were very sympathetic. They're going to set you up soon with a hospital psychologist who's trained in hypnosis and get you started on some sessions. They'll coordinate it around my schedule so I can take you in when I go to work."

Justin smiled gratefully, hopeful that maybe that would help him remember. "That's great," he told the other man. "I can't wait to see if it helps. I'm willing to try _anything_ now, if it will help me with my memory."

"I hope it does," Andrew told him sincerely. "I _do_ have a something a bit more pleasant to ask you about, though." As Justin looked at him curiously, he explained. "How would you like to accompany me to the benefit tomorrow night? You could find out firsthand how much your painting brings in, and get a nice meal out of it to boot. It would sure beat ME trying to cook us something," he joked.

Justin hesitated. "I don't know, Andrew," he answered a little uneasily. "I don't think I would feel real comfortable hobnobbing with a big crowd, and besides, what would I wear? My same old chinos and t-shirt is getting a little old and faded by now." Justin had worn some of Andrew's hand-me-downs over the past week, but the man was somewhat taller and bigger than him; any type of formal wear would positively hang loose on him.

"Come on," Andrew coached him. "You could stand to get out a little bit. And I know a doctor friend who's about your size. I'm sure I could call him to borrow a suit for one night. I'll be sitting next to you at the dinner, and I'm sure I could persuade Michelle and her husband to join us. It's just for a few hours – what do you say?"

Justin pondered the idea; maybe Andrew was right – he had been pretty much holed up in the man's apartment for the past week, except for short jaunts down the street to grab some fresh air. And it _would_ be interesting to see how the bidding went for his painting. "Okay," he finally concurred. "Maybe it _would _be nice to get out for a while."

"Great," Andrew encouraged him. "I'll give my friend a call and see if I can run over and pick up a suit from him." Justin nodded as the other man flipped his cell phone open and walked toward his bedroom to change. As the other man closed his door, Justin found his attention drawn once more to the two subjects of his current work. He stared at the unfinished painting for a long time, lost in thought. _Help me find you,_ he pleaded silently, before he reluctantly closed his paints back up and carried his brushes over to the sink to clean them.


	19. Chapter 19: Brian's Shocking Discovery

_Wednesday Morning – Kinnetik_

"Brian? You wanted to see me?" Ted stuck his head through the doorway and walked slowly into the other man's office after receiving a curt nod in reply. He wasn't exactly looking forward to their conservation. He could already guess what – or _who_ – it was going to be in regards to.

"Have a seat, Theodore," Brian curtly requested, motioning with his hand for the other man to join him.

Ted nervously took one of the seats facing Brian's desk. He made quick stock of his boss' somewhat unkempt, wrinkled appearance and deep lines around his eyes; the man was apparently still not getting much sleep at night, even though he was continuing to stay with Michael and Ben. Before Brian could say anything further, though, Ted plunged right in. "Before you say anything," he implored his boss, "I want you to know I had _nothing_ to do with what Blake did yesterday. In fact, I told him in no certain terms to forget about it."

"So you _did_ know about his little encounter yesterday," Brian replied, his voice laced with what? Looking at Brian's haunted face and steely eyes, Ted decided it was a combination of both weariness and anger.

"Well, he _did _tell me about running into someone that he claimed was Justin." Ted noticed the slight flinch and break in Brian's façade at the mention of his partner's name out loud. He swallowed nervously before continuing, "But I _also_ told him it was flat out impossible that he saw who he _thought_ he saw. I had NO idea he was going to march in here yesterday with that absurd contention," he told Brian firmly. "You've _got_ to believe me, Brian."

The brunet studied Ted carefully for any signs of subterfuge. He had gone out on a limb a few years ago when he had hired Ted as his accountant, but he had to admit that the man had not done anything since then to warrant any suspicion; on the contrary, he had proven to be a loyal and efficient employee, and had managed to counsel Brian on several financial strategies which had yielded extremely impressive profit margins. Now, as he looked at the other man, he could not detect any signs of deception.

Sighing a little as he came to a decision, he peered directly into the other man's eyes to advise him, "I believe you, Theodore." He heard the other man audibly breathe a sigh of relief as he cautioned him, "But don't EVER let Blake come in here again with any other fucking outrageous claims, or you _WILL _be held personally accountable…….do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly," Ted instantly responded. He hurriedly rose from his chair as he continued speaking, "And thanks," he said, as he slowly backed away and prepared to leave Brian's office as soon as he gracefully could. "I'd better get back to work now," he indicated as he finally reached the open doorway and walked out, almost running into Cynthia who was on her way in.

Brian watched the other man leave in amusement before turning his attention to his assistant. "He sure was in a hurry to leave," she observed. "I take it the pink slip isn't being issued just yet?

"No, but you might say he was put on boyfriend probation. Any other stunts like the one Blake pulled yesterday and Theodore will be out on his ass along with his blond ex-drug addict," Brian retorted as Cynthia smiled slightly.

"Well, I'm glad that's straightened out, because we've got a little problem with this account," she replied, handing him a folder.

He opened it up to peer at the documents inside. "The Keystone Logistics account? What's wrong with it?"

"Well, I just got off the phone with Coleman, the CEO. He's not happy with the ad campaign Jake presented to his company earlier this week. Remember – he had to go out of town when the rest of the committee met with Jake? Everyone there raved about the slogan and graphics, but when Coleman got back into town yesterday and discovered what they had decided upon, he was irate."

Brian looked up at her puzzled. "What's the problem? Isn't it the same campaign I came up with last week? I thought it was fucking brilliant."

"I remember. But something definitely happened between the time you met with Jake and the art department and he met with Coleman's people on Monday. For one thing, Coleman was expecting _you _to come and pitch it to him personally."

Brian nodded as he recalled his last conservation with the CEO a couple of weeks ago. That _had_ been his intention. But between Coleman being called out of town on some type of company crisis, and the…..accident…..that happened last week, the two men had been unable to reach a mutually convenient time to meet together. So Brian had left it up to Jake to meet with Coleman's other staff members earlier this week, apparently with disastrous results.

He sighed in disgust. "Well, that's just fucking great. I thought we had that one in the bag. And he's got a countrywide distribution company. That could result in some incredible contacts and major buzz in the whole trucking industry nationwide. So what will it take to make him _happy_ again?" he asked her pointedly.

"I think you already know the answer to that…..he wants to meet with you personally tomorrow at his corporate office. Should I call him and set up a mutually agreeable time with his assistant?" she asked him. She wasn't quite sure what Brian's answer would be, however. Ever since Justin's death last week, he had merely been a shell of his normal confident, bold self. She was somewhat heartened, therefore, by his response.

"Looks like I don't have a choice if I want to save this deal. It's too fucking lucrative to have it go down the toilet now," he growled. "Make the arrangements and let me know the time, okay? Oh, and it goes without saying it's too far to drive – it's what? A five and a half-hour drive? You'll need to book me a flight around the meeting time."

She nodded. "Yeah – it's something like that. I'll make the arrangements and let you know," she informed him, as she turned to leave his office.

Brian shook his head. Nothing seemed to be going right ever since that horrible day last week. Rubbing his shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to lessen some of his stress and tight muscles, he leaned back in his chair briefly to stretch. As he did, his eyes fell upon the far wall, where Brian proudly displayed one of Justin's more dramatic artworks. He sighed sadly. _God, Justin…….I miss you so much, Sunshine_, he thought, before making an attempt to return to studying the research displayed on his laptop.

* * *

_Harrisburg General Hospital Reception Center - Wednesday Evening _

"Jacob!" Michelle cried excitedly, rushing over to give the young man an affectionate hug. "You look wonderful!" she exclaimed.

Justin blushed at the attention. "Thanks," he said somewhat bashfully. "It's good to see you again, too." He noticed a dark-haired, tall man standing next to her with his hand gently grasping her elbow.

"Oh," Michelle said somewhat apologetically as she noticed Justin observing the other man. "Where are my manners? Jacob, I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Brady. Honey, this is the man I told you about who painted that wonderful piece of art…….Jacob Martin," she advised him, smiling.

"It's really nice to meet you," her husband told him pleasantly. "Although, I must say – Michelle's been driving me _crazy_ ever since she saw that painting you donated. She's already warned me that if we don't come out on top of the bidding and I don't bring your painting home, I shouldn't bother to come home, either," he joked, as his wife gave him a mock slap on his back.

Justin smiled. "That's very kind of you to say," he said humbly. "I was glad to donate it. It doesn't really matter to me how much it brings, as long as it's going toward the children's wing. Andrew asked if I would mind, since he's a big booster for that part of the hospital. After all he's done for me, it was the least I could do."

As if on cue, Andrew strode up to the group with two drinks in hand, a glass of wine for him and some sparkling water for Justin. "Hello, Michelle......Brady," he greeted the couple, nodding congenially. He had met Michelle's husband previously on other hospital social occasions.

"Andrew…..We were just talking about your roommate's painting," Brady informed him. "We've already got our bidder number ready and I've already been told not to bother coming home if I don't come home with the painting, too," he laughed.

Andrew grinned. "Well, you'd better be prepared to shell out some big bucks," he warned. "I think that item is going to go high."

"Andrew……" Justin flushed; he was clearly embarrassed by all the accolades being heaped upon his contribution.

"You just watch, Jacob," the doctor instructed him. "It's going to be a big hit. I've heard all kinds of people raving about it. But first I think it's about dinner time. Should we go find us a table?"

"Yeah, good idea," Michelle agreed. "Better grab ours _now_…..I want one near the stage so the auctioneer can't help but see our bidder number for your painting, Jacob. Let's go stake out one near the front," she urged, as she started to pull her husband along, who simply laughed at her impatience.

Andrew handed his friend the water. "Ready to go take a seat? Looks like she's a lady on a mission."

Justin smiled, nodding, as the two men followed after the quickly disappearing couple, trying intently to keep them in their line of sight.

* * *

_Kinnetik - Wednesday Evening_

"Brian?" Cynthia poked her head into the man's office. "I'm about ready to head on out for the night. I've got your itinerary and the E-ticket for your trip tomorrow." She walked up to his desk and handed him an envelope. "Your meeting with Coleman is scheduled for 11:30 tomorrow, and your flight leaves at 9:00. That should give you plenty of time to grab a taxi at the airport and head over to his offices."

Brian nodded. "Thanks, Cynthia." He accepted the travel information from her, glancing at the details briefly to ensure everything seemed to be in order. "I'll probably leave straight from Ben and Michael's house for the airport tomorrow, so you or Theodore can call me on my cell if any major crises arise. Let's hope the Keystone Logistics account won't be one of them, at least by the time I get done schmoozing the man."

She grinned. "I have no doubt that you're the man for the job," she assured him. She knew Brian wasn't probably at the top of his game presently, but she still knew he was the only one who could persuade the CEO to stay with Kinnetik and give the advertising campaign a fair chance. She briefly said goodnight and strode out toward the front entrance, leaving Brian alone once again with his thoughts.

* * *

_Harrisburg General Hospital Benefit _

"Wow!" Andrew exclaimed. "I _told_ you!" he admonished the other man. "I _told_ you it would be a big hit, didn't I?"

Justin shook his head in disbelief; the painting he had recently completed had been the intense subject of a bidding war that broke out between Michelle's husband and a well-known cardiologist who worked at the hospital. As a result, by the time the bidding was over, Justin's painting has been purchased at a phenomenal price of $5,000. He was absolutely stunned but also delighted that the hospital's children's wing would be the recipient of such a large donation.

"You realize, don't you, that as a result of this purchase we will no doubt be eating tuna casseroles and macaroni and cheese for the next year?" Brady informed his wife good-naturedly. "You also realize, I'm sure, that your former patient's magnificent painting will have to be placed prominently in my office since I was the persistent bidder who came out ultimately on top in total triumph over your esteemed heart doctor?"

Michelle opened her mouth to protest, but she figured her husband deserved it; after all, it was due largely in part to his business that she was able to successfully obtain - and more importantly, _afford _Jacob's painting. She really didn't care _where_ it was placed – she just wanted it to belong to them. "Okay," she agreed finally. "You can _borrow_ it for the next six months or so…..kind of like a traveling display at the art gallery. But I want it back later," she warned him, although the grin on her face tempered her demand.

"I'll take that under advisement," Brady responded, as he reached over to give her a kiss on the cheek. Looking at his watch, he told his wife, "Now that we have accomplished your major goal of the evening, I think it's time we head home. You've got an early morning schedule and I have an important meeting I have to prepare for."

She groaned. "You _always_ have an important meeting to prepare for," she chided him good-naturedly.

"Yes, I know," he readily agreed. "That's how I'm able to indulge you in your whimsies," he told her, pointing over at Justin's painting leaning carefully against an unoccupied chair. "So I think it's time to take the latest object of your _whimsy_ home."

Justin and Andrew grinned at the couple as they pushed their chairs back and rose from the table to offer their goodbyes. Assuring Justin that they would take good care of their new acquisition, Brady securely tucked the painting under his arm and strode out with Michelle closely behind.

"Well, I think you should be very flattered by the amount of their bid," Andrew told him. "Although I'm not surprised it went that high. If you ask me, they got a bargain. Something tells me your works will only go up in value in the future."

Justin laughed. "Spoken like a true art critic, which you are _not_. But thanks for the confidence, anyway. Like I said, I'm just glad it went for such a good price since it's going toward a worthy cause."

Andrew noticed his friend trying unsuccessfully to stifle a large yawn. "Still not sleeping much?" he asked him.

Justin shook his head. "No," he answered truthfully. "I'm still having all these dreams." He sighed as he looked at Andrew. "I _do_ appreciate you pushing me to come tonight, though. I actually enjoyed it….maybe it was just the idea of getting out, if only for a little while. I'm anxious to get the hypnosis sessions going, though. Have you heard anything else yet?"

"No, not really," he responded, noticing Jacob's disappointed look. "It might take a few days at least to get your first session scheduled," he advised the other man realistically. "Don't worry – I'll check on it tomorrow, okay?" Glancing up at the clock overhead, he told Justin, "I'd guess we'd better go, too…I have to be here pretty early tomorrow for rounds. You ready?"

Justin nodded his head affirmatively. "Yeah…..I'm pretty tired and my arm is starting to ache some. I didn't bring any of my pain pills with me."

"Let's go, then," Andrew told him, as they, too, rose from their chairs and turned to weave themselves through the crowd toward the exit.

* * *

_Keystone Logistics – 11:20 a.m. Thursday_

"Yes? May I help you?" A smartly-groomed, blonde-haired woman glanced up from her desk at the handsome but tired-looking man standing in front of her.

"I'm Brian Kinney with Kinnetik Advertising - I have a 11:30 meeting scheduled with Mr. Coleman," he explained.

The assistant peered over at her computer calendar. "Yes, Mr. Kinney," she acknowledged. "Mr. Coleman is expecting you." She stood and advised him, "If you'll come with me, please, I'll seat you in the conference room."

Carrying his slim attaché containing the ad graphics for the Keystone Logistics campaign, Brian followed the woman down a relatively long aisle surrounded on both sides by numerous cubicles buzzing with men and women wearing headsets, no doubt providing instructions for the hundreds of trucking companies calling in for delivery guidance. Brian was confident that the campaign he had developed with Jake and his art staff last week was still an inspired and effective advertising tool for Coleman's company; he just had to convince the other man of that.

"Here we are," the woman advised him, as she opened a heavy, dark-wood door that led into a spacious conference room. The room, containing a large oval-sized table and a dozen office chairs, was devoid of any employees at the moment. "If you would like to set up your information on the easels over there and then make yourself comfortable, Mr. Coleman should be with you shortly," she told Brian professionally as she nodded and turned to go.

Thanking the woman politely before she left, Brian took a few moments to compose his thoughts before placing the slim portfolio down on the table and opening it to take out the storyboards and graphic charts for his ad pitch. It was actually the same exact materials Jake had used with Coleman's staff members on Monday, but Brian realized how important it was to make sure that their CEO was on board with his ideas as well.

He efficiently placed the advertising foam boards in the correct order in preparation for the imminent meeting. Satisfied that they were properly set up, he found himself with a few minutes left to study his surroundings. His attention was first drawn to the large expanse of windows overlooking a picturesque, landscaped garden directly outside, complete with a large, cascading fountain. After a few minutes, he turned away from the outdoor scene to observe several pieces of artwork placed strategically throughout the room. He slowly walked around the table, glancing cursorily at each work, until his eyes happened to fall upon a large, dramatic abstract painting hanging prominently on the opposite wall from the windows. The bright sun pouring in bathed the painting in a spotlight and seemed to make it almost luminescent. Done in somber shades of navy, burgundy, dark green, and charcoal gray, it was at once angry but also passionate and vibrant.

Brian stood transfixed for several seconds, staring at the work of art as if in a trance, before he slowly, finally walked closer to it. He was afraid to blink his eyes for fear that what he thought he was seeing would somehow disappear or be replaced by something else. As he stood just a few feet away, his breath caught in his throat and his mouth hung open in stunned shock. He placed his left hand over his heart, which had begun to beat furiously. His feet felt like they were made of lead as he continued to stare intensely in total disbelief at the painting in front of him. He couldn't take his eyes away from it, or move even if he wanted to; nothing could have made him leave his place of scrutiny. Because he knew instinctively without a doubt who the artist was…….._Justin_.


	20. Chapter 20: Pieces Falling Into Place?

Time seemed to stand still as Brian continued to stare at the painting; nothing else in the world mattered at the moment. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Justin had painted it; he had seen his partner's work so many times over the past few years he could have almost detected it wearing a blindfold. His artwork had an almost mythical, ethereal quality to it – swirling visions of passion, life experience, happiness, pain or hope, depending upon what Justin was going through at the time.

As he continued to gape at the painting, he noticed a signature in the bottom right hand corner – Jacob Martin. _Jacob Martin_? Was it possible he was somehow mistaken? He continued to stare at it for several minutes. _No_, he decided firmly. _This is Justin's…….He knew it. He FELT it._ But how? And why the other signature? What the hell was going on here?

"It's quite striking, isn't it?" he heard a baritone voice saying behind him from the doorway. Reluctantly tearing himself away from the artwork, he turned around to find Brady Coleman standing at the entrance, observing him.

"Yes," Brian replied distractedly, his mind still focused on the painting behind him, even though he was looking at the CEO. He tried hard to sound nonchalant and keep the emotion out of his voice as he asked, "Where did you get it?"

The older man walked into the room toward Brian before responding, "At a benefit for the local hospital my wife and I attended. Had to shell out quite a pretty penny, too…..some big shot cardiologist was battling it out with me to take it home for himself, but my wife was determined to come out on top. I knew better than to disappoint her," he confided in the other man, chuckling, "or I would have definitely been in the doghouse." He reached over to shake Brian's hand. "Good to see you again. I'm glad the top gun decided to come here to pitch his ad personally. I was beginning to think you were neglecting me."

Normally, Brian would have played right along with the client and schmoozed the hell out of him to win him over; however, this was not a normal situation. He turned back around to the painting and continued to stare at it, totally engrossed.

"Brian?" Coleman called. "I _do _have a tight schedule here. Can we get started?" he asked coolly, looking at his Rolex and growing a little impatient after the other man did not respond immediately. "Brian? Just what is going on here?" he asked authoritatively.

Brian finally turned around. "That's what _I'd _like to know," he pressed the other man, his eyes flashing in suspicion. "_Where_ did you get this?"

"I _told_ you, Brian," Coleman retorted, his irritation rapidly growing incrementally as precious time clicked by. _Just what was WRONG with this man? _"I TOLD you….my wife and I bought it at a benefit last night."

"_LAST NIGHT?! You bought it LAST NIGHT?" _he repeated to himself in disbelief. _What was going on?_

"Just what the hell is _wrong_ with you? Why do YOU care where I bought the painting?"

"Just answer the fucking question!" he demanded. "You bought it last _night?_"

"Are you deaf?! Yes! I bought it last _night_! WHAT is the problem?" Coleman was beginning to think this other man was crazy; he had always had a lot of respect for Kinnetik and its president, but he was beginning now to seriously have doubts about the trust he had placed in the man's company.

Brian completely ignored the man's question; he had too many important ones to ask of his own. "This _Jacob Martin_…..what do you know about him?" he pressed, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. His mind drifted temporarily to the scene in his office Tuesday morning.....Blake insisting he had seen Justin in front of his club on Saturday....

Brady huffed in extreme exasperation. Was this man not listening to anything he had to say? Sighing loudly, he said, "Not much. I just met him last night."

Brian walked closer to the other man; Coleman could feel the other man's breath on his face as he continued to interrogate him. "You _met_ him?" He held his breath and his heart began to pound as he whispered, "What…….what did he _look_ like?"

"Brian….."the other man began, totally confused now as he noticed the ad executive becoming more agitated by the second.

"Tell me!" Brian demanded urgently, reaching over to firmly grasp the other man's upper arms in a vise. He was not letting this man out of his sight until he answered his questions.

"Brian," Coleman warned him. "If you don't release me NOW, I will call security. I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you, but I do NOT appreciate being manhandled! Now kindly let GO of me!"

Brian abruptly became aware of how tightly he was holding onto the other man, and finally released him. Frustration and pain were noticeable on his face as he now beseeched the CEO, "You don't understand how important this is. I can't explain it to you – hell, I can't explain it to _myself_ yet – but please…..I'm actually _begging_ you. Tell me what he looked like. _Please_," he repeated softly.

Coleman stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on. He didn't understand, but he couldn't deny the emotional torment plainly showing on Kinney's face and the pain in the man's eyes. Whatever the problem was, it was enough for the normally unflappable ad executive to turn flustered and almost desperate.

Deciding to acquiesce somewhat to the other man's passionate entreaty, he volunteered, "He……he was blond, I'd say early twenties….."

"Bright blue eyes, about 5'8", slender, with a smile that would light up a room?" Brian finished for him, whispering. He held his breath as he waited for the other man to answer, inwardly cursing at himself for not having a photo of Justin with him; it had merely been too painful lately to carry a constant reminder of what he had lost.

"Well, I'm not sure about the smile part, but the rest would fit," Coleman confirmed, as he noticed the other man closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah," he decided, "I suppose that would be a pretty accurate description of him." He studied the gamut of emotions that seemed to flash across the other man's face. "Why? Do you know him?" he asked curiously.

Brian breathed in a large gulp of oxygen and let it out. "Yes," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "I think I do." He had no idea what was going on, but he DID know one thing – he had to _FIND _this man – NOW.

"Where can I LOCATE him?" he pressed the other man urgently. "WHERE?!"

Coleman's eyebrows narrowed in puzzlement. Whatever the problem was, he knew he was not going to be conducting any business with the man today; Kinney was on some type of mission to speak to this artist for whatever reason. "Why do you need to know?" he asked him. He had been impressed with Jacob after meeting him last night, and did not want him to come to any more harm than he had already experienced; his wife couldn't tell him too many specifics due to patient confidentiality rules, but she HAD told him enough to know that he had sustained some type of traumatic injury that had affected his memory. He could not ascertain just what Kinney's motives were for wanting to meet Jacob and he did not want to be the cause for the young man to suffer any further harm. If he did, he was quite convinced his wife would never speak to him again.

Brian paused; just how much should he tell this other man? He had met Brady Coleman a few times before, mainly at advertising conventions, but he really didn't know the other man well at all. However, he had a distinct feeling that if he didn't at least tell him _something_ about Justin, the man may very well shut himself up tighter than a clam and not divulge_ anything _at all to him. He couldn't take that chance.

"He……He sounds a lot like my partner. My _personal _partner." Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Jus…….Justin. Justin Taylor." It was the first time Brian had uttered Justin's name since the accident; now the rest of the words rushed out in a torrent of emotion and hope. "He…..he was in that train accident almost two weeks ago here in Harrisburg while on his way back home to Pittsburgh from New York. There wasn't supposed to be any survivors." He turned once more to gaze in wonder at the painting behind him. "But…..but this _painting_. Don't ask me how exactly, but somehow I _know_……my partner _painted_ this." He turned back to the other man, the desperation back in his face. "Please…..Just tell me how I can contact this man. I have to _see_ him. To find out for myself if I'm right."

Brady looked at the other man, stunned into shock. He searched his mind for the details he recalled about the young artist he had met last night and the patient that had endeared himself so quickly to his wife. When had he first been admitted to the hospital? He rapidly racked his brain to think. Yes. It was about two weeks ago, shortly after that horrible Amtrak accident just outside Harrisburg. Michelle had told him a couple had picked Jacob up by the side of the road and brought him into the hospital. She had also told him that the man had suffered a memory loss due to the injury he had sustained. Was it just conceivable enough that this could be the same man that Kinney was so eager to find? Was it possible there _had _somehow been a survivor of that terrible crash after all?

Coleman decided to do what he had done countless times before in his job; after all, that was what had largely been responsible for his success in such a relatively short time: he decided to trust his instincts. And as he looked at the pleading, desperate look in the other man's eyes, he made up his mind. "I don't know exactly where he lives," he told the other man. "But his roommate works with my wife at the hospital. I can probably reach him for you."

Brian's heart pounded in excitement. If he was right, and it _was _Justin_, _he couldn't understand how he could be alive, and more importantly, if he _was_, why he hadn't been in contact with him? But the most important thing at the moment was _seeing_ him. "Can't you just give me the roommate's name and let _me_ contact him?" he asked desperately, urgently.

Coleman hesitated briefly. He supposed there really wouldn't be much difference in him contacting Andrew or Brian doing it; ultimately, it would be up to Andrew, though, how much he wanted to tell the other man about Jacob. "Okay……I guess it doesn't make any difference. His name is Andrew Bradley, _Dr_. Andrew Bradley. He's an ER doctor at Harrisburg General Hospital downtown……." The man barely got the words out of his mouth before he saw Brian quickly turn around and rush out of the room, completely forgetting his storyboards and graphics for his ad campaign. Coleman turned to look up at his newest art acquisition thoughtfully. _I hope I did the right thing here, Michelle,_ he thought, before turning to walk out of the room. He decided it might be best to call his wife and let her know that a slightly crazy, emotionally-charged man was about to come looking for her friend the doctor and her former patient.

_

* * *

_

_Harrisburg General Hospital_

"Doctor!" Andrew turned around as he heard the frantic call of his friend Michelle behind him as she rushed up to greet him. "Hey, Michelle," Andrew acknowledged her, smiling. "Are you here to gloat over your acquisition last night? I'm envious……I _still _say that painting's going to be worth a lot of money some day." He stopped smiling, however, as he noticed the woman's worried expression on her face. "What is it?" he asked, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

She noticed all the staff members bustling around the nearby nurses' station in the ICU ward. "Can we go somewhere privately and talk?" she asked softly. "It's important," she added.

Andrew stared at her puzzled. "Uh…..sure. Over there." He motioned to a patient counseling room nearby as he led her by the elbow into the room and closed the door. "What's up?" he inquired, as the two sat down in facing chairs.

"I just got a call from Brady at work," she advised him breathlessly. "It's about Jacob……"

"What about him?" Andrew asked, startled. "He's all right, isn't he?"

"Andrew……My husband had an appointment this morning with an advertising executive from Pittsburgh by the name of Brian Kinney…."

Andrew held his breath as the words came tumbling together. _Jacob…….Pittsburgh_….._Brian_. Could this be…..?

He managed to stammer out, "What about him?" except somehow he knew what she was about to say.

"Well, his secretary put Mr. Kinney in the conference room to wait for Brady….that's where he had decided to hang Jacob's painting," the woman explained. "When Brady got there, he saw Mr. Kinney staring closely at the picture. He claimed he knew who had painted it, but his name wasn't Jacob Martin. He said his name was Justin Taylor."

"But….how would he _know_ that?" he persistently asked the other woman. He still refused to believe that this man could be the same Brian that his roommate and friend had been constantly dreaming about and drawing incessantly. "The painting isn't signed that way…..he signed it as Jacob Martin. This man would have no way of connecting that to this other person."

Michelle studied him intently, puzzled a little by her friend's negative reaction. "Well, Brady thinks the man genuinely might know who Jacob is; that's why he called me. He wanted me to pass along to you that he told this man that Jacob was rooming with you, and you would know how to reach him. He said after his told the man this, he left his office like a bat out of hell, no doubt coming here to see you. Said the man was on a mission and was not going to be deterred. He just thought you should know…..and be prepared for a lot of questions."

"Oh, and get this," she added animatedly," Mr. Kinney said that he was told his partner had been killed in that terrible train accident almost two weeks ago, the one where there wasn't supposed to be any survivors. Don't you _see_, Andrew? It all fits…..I mean, I have _no_ idea how Jacob possibly survived that crash, but it all COULD make sense. He was found out on Rt. 55 near the side of the road, but the railroad tracks run _parallel _to the road there. I know it sounds crazy, but it _could_ be possible, if somehow Jacob – or _Justin _– had survived the crash with a bad head wound. If he had lost his memory, he would have also lost the ability to tell us how he _got_ there."

"Well, that doesn't mean the man knows what he's talking about," Andrew responded just a little too sharply. "It could just be wishful thinking."

Michelle looked at him with a start, puzzled. "Andrew…..This might be just what Jacob has been hoping for…a link to his memory and someone who can tell him who he is. You should be happy for him. Why do you almost sound resentful?"

The man fidgeted a little uncomfortably under her intent gaze. "I AM happy for him," he insisted. "IF this man knows what he's talking about. I just want to make sure before I get Jacob's hopes up, that's all."

Michelle narrowed her brows as an "aha" moment suddenly occurred to her. "Ah…..Now I get it."

"What?" was the somewhat defensive response.

"You're falling in _love _with him, aren't you?" she asked him softly. "You're _jealous_." Her face changed instantly from one of befuddlement to understanding sympathy. Ever since she had met the young, hard-working doctor several months ago, she had teased him about trying to find him a nice guy to settle down with (well at least, _after_ he confided in her that she had been trying to fix him with the wrong _type_ of date). Now, however, it was sadly apparent to her that just as soon as he had finally become smitten with the right kind of person, he had the extreme bad luck to fall in love with someone who was already in love with someone else. Of _course_.

Andrew considered lying to her and protesting that she had it all wrong; but he knew the perceptive nurse would see right through that. Finally, he whispered, "Is it _that_ obvious?" as he placed his head in his hands and propped his elbows up on his knees in resignation.

Michelle smiled tenderly. "It _is_ to me," she replied. "I don't think anyone else would notice," she assured him, "but I've seen the way you look at him when you're together. You've fallen hard for _this_ one, Doctor."

Andrew sighed. "I've got _perfect_ fucking timing, don't I?" he stated plaintively. "God…..What a _fool_ I am. I had to go and pick the one person who can't possibly reciprocate."

"You never know," Michelle told him, as he looked at her in surprise. "I mean…..this Kinney apparently loves him, too. But Jacob – or Justin, or _whoever_ he is – doesn't remember everything, including his life with this man. And he may not _ever _remember all of it, including his feelings for him. Don't count yourself out just yet."

Andrew shook his head, not willing to hope that she could be right. "I'm not going to interfere, Michelle. I care enough about him to want him to be happy. If this Kinney turns out to be right, Jacob deserves to find out how he feels about him – and deserves to try and hopefully get his memory back. I wouldn't want him, anyway, if I felt like I didn't win his heart fair and square." He stood up and stretched, trying to relax the suddenly tight, tense muscles in his shoulders. "Something tells me I'm about to be paged. I'd better be ready. At least your husband warned me first – it would have _really_ been a shock if this man had just shown up out of the blue."

Michelle stood to join him, nodding. "Yeah, but just think what a shock _Jacob's_ going to be in for. Andrew – you can't just spring this man on him unannounced."

Andrew twisted his face in thought. "No, I agree. Mr. Kinney and I are going to have to have a long talk before he just waltzes in to see Jacob." Just then, his pager went off. He and the nurse looked at each other knowingly. "I think we're about to have that talk now," he confided in her, as he reached to open the door and head down to the nurses' station. "Wish me luck."

Michelle watched as he walked away, silently knowing that however events unfolded in the next several hours, there was bound to be at least one man that would be left with a broken heart.


	21. Chapter 21: Doing What's Best for Him

_**A/N: Here is the next chapter - sorry it's taken me a few days to download - hopefully it won't disappoint. But on that note.....I knew everyone's eagerly awaiting the boys' reunion. Alas, it will NOT be in this chapter - sorry! I had to get them set up in this chapter. The long-awaited reunion will be in the next chapter, I promise! Hope you wade through this one in the meantime, though.....Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing - you guys are great!**_

* * *

"_His name is Andrew Bradley, Dr. Andrew Bradley. He's an ER doctor at Harrisburg General Hospital downtown."_

Those words kept echoing in Brian's head as he rode in the cab toward the hospital. He was thankful that he wasn't driving at the moment, because a jumble of emotions and unanswered questions was threatening to overwhelm him. What the hell had _happened_? There was no way that Justin wouldn't have contacted him if he had somehow survived that horrific train crash. Not unless he wasn't _able_ to. But Coleman had told him that he had _met_ Justin last night….at least Brian _thought_ it was Justin. Coleman said Brian's description of his partner sounded very similar to this Jacob Martin. How positive could he be, though? Was he _really_ correct or it was it just some desperate case of wishing thinking? Could his desperation to be reunited with the man he loved be clouding his judgment? He closed his eyes and conjured up the painting again in his head. He recalled the vibrant, dynamic swirls of the artist's strokes. The passion inherent in the painting that spoke volumes. The prevalent sadness that permeated it. How it was so like Justin's emotions to be transmitted to his works, like they were an extension of his own body. _No_, Brian decided firmly, as his heart began to race and his hands actually trembled. _It HAS_ _to be him. If it's not, I'd just as soon be dead anyway._

He nervously drummed his long fingers on his knee. "How much farther?" he impatiently asked the cabbie, who informed him they were about five minutes away. No doubt they would be the longest five minutes of his life.

_

* * *

__Harrisburg General Hospital_

He barely gave the cab driver enough time to stop before he shoved a $50 bill into the shocked man's hand and urgently opened the door to get out. As he hurried through the entrance, his heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were clammy with anticipation. He hurried to the patient registration area, completely ignoring the annoyed glares of a couple who were in line before him.

"I need to see Dr. Bradley," he demanded breathlessly of the older female receptionist seated at the desk.

"Excuse me?" she replied somewhat testily. "Are you needing to register? You'll have to get in line." She peered up at him through her wire-rimmed glasses uninterestedly. After being employed there for 28 years, she had pretty heard it all; nothing fazed her. This man would have to wait just like everyone else.

This woman, however, had NOT met Brian Kinney. A very determined, extremely tense Brian Kinney. "I do NOT need to register," he firmly announced, bypassing the protests of the couple in front of him. He leaned in close to the woman as he towered over her and demanded, "I need to see Dr. Bradley……NOW."

"Look, Sir," the woman responded haughtily, trying to sound more authoritative than she actually felt as she again repeated, "I don't care if you need to see the _Pope_….you will need to wait in _line_."

Brian growled, "This is _bullshit_," before turning and walking toward the patient examination room doors. "Just WATCH me!"

"Sir!" the receptionist stood as she called out to him. "You can't just _walk_ in there! I'll call security!" she warned him.

"You DO that," he shouted, before he roughly pushed the swinging doors open and rushed inside. As the employee picked up the phone to call for assistance, Brian quickly spied a nurses' station approximately 25 feet down the hallway. Striding briskly up to a nearby nurse standing behind the counter, he repeated his request to see the doctor.

"May I ask the reason why?" the nurse, who was slender, short and blond, asked him politely as she tried to covertly disguise the fact that she was admiring the elegant, dark-haired man. She wasn't immune to the man's classic good looks and Brian wasn't hesitant in the least to take advantage of it. _It was time to turn on the Kinney charm…..for Justin._

Disregarding the butterflies in his stomach and his sweating palms, he forced himself to plaster on one of his most beguiling smiles, replying softly as if he were providing an intimate confidence, "I have an important personal matter to discuss with him. Would you please try and page him? It's _very_ important, Mrs…….?"

"Brown. MISS Julie Brown," she supplied, emphasizing the _M__iss_ part clearly as she returned his smile. She hesitated only briefly as Brian continued to smile attentively at her before she nodded and picked up the station phone to issue a page for Dr. Bradley. "I'll call his pager and indicate he needs to come to the nurses' station as soon as possible," she informed him as she reached out a manicured hand and placed it unintentionally, of course, on Brian's sleeve. "Mr……?"

Brian smiled again, even though his stomach was tied up in knots and his mind, as well as his heart, was somewhere else. "Kinney," he answered smoothly. "Thank you, _Julie_, you've been very helpful." The woman was about to no doubt pursue her conversation with Brian further when he was spared any more useless, idle chit chat as she was called over to another part of the station. Sighing in relief inwardly, he turned his back to the station, leaning up against it, as he anxiously waited for the doctor to appear who held the answers he was so desperately seeking.

* * *

Michelle's words ringing in her ears, Andrew walked slowly but purposefully from the end of the hallway toward the nurses' station. He could not be sure of the reason why he was being summoned, but somehow he DID know…..If his instincts were right, he was about to come face to face with the man who had been haunting Jacob's dreams and visions for almost two weeks now. The man who held the key to who Jacob was.

As he got closer to his destination, he observed a tall, toned, auburn-haired man leaning against the counter, his hands clasped in front of him as he nervously wrung them. From Andrew's angle, he could only see a side profile; it wasn't until the man saw him approaching from the corner of his eye and turned toward him that Andrew _knew_. Knew without a doubt who this man was. After all, he had seen that face countless numbers of times in the past two weeks. The depth of Jacob's artistic talent was never more evident than it was at that moment, because the likeness between the drawings and the reality was striking. There was no doubt in his mind that this was _the_ Brian who had captured his roommate's heart. As the man now scrutinized him intently, Andrew's own heart sank, because he knew at that instant that if this man loved Jacob as much as _he_ loved him, he would never let him go.

There was no point in asking why he had been paged to come to the nurses' station; the reason was obvious and he was standing just a few feet away from him. Talking a calming breath, he walked up to the other man. "I'm Dr. Bradley," he verified to Brian. "You wanted to see me?"

Brian was briefly taken aback by how much this other man resembled him; same shade of dark brown hair, same color of eyes, even the same type of build, although the other man was slightly shorter and not quite as toned. Was Justin trying to _replace_ him somehow? He tampered down the sudden pang of jealousy and insecurity that had inexplicably rose to the surface as he prepared to grill this other man on just what his role was in Justin's life, and more importantly, where his partner _was_ and just what the hell had been going on for the last two weeks.

Before Brian had a chance to say anything, however, a security guard hurriedly walked up to the station, with the receptionist close behind. "That's him," she growled, as she pointed at Brian and glared arrogantly at him.

"Is this man bothering you, Doctor?" the security guard asked Andrew in concern as he curiously examined the other man. For a tiny second, Andrew was actually tempted to tell him yes; it would temporarily, at least, rid him of having to deal with the man who was about to totally uproot both his life and Jacob's. He knew, however, that no matter _how _he might feel, it would not be fair to his friend, whose most sacred wish for the past couple of weeks was to find out who he was and regain his memory. Sighing in resignation, he informed the security guard, "No, Rick……There's not a problem. It's fine…..really. We...….have _personal_ business to discuss." Assured there was not going to be any problems, the guard nodded and left; the receptionist stood there for a few seconds more, hands crossed over her chest, before she finally let out a huff of frustration, turned on her heels, and stormed back toward the waiting area.

Relatively alone at last, Andrew turned his attention back toward the other man and stated, "You're Mr. Kinney." He didn't frame it as a question; it was more of a statement, because he already knew the answer. This man could only be _one_ person.

Brian nodded as he continued to stare evenly at the other man. "_Brian_ Kinney," he stated as the two rival men politely shook hands. Brian's outward calm totally belied the roiling turmoil going on inside him at the moment. Uncertainty, yearning, and desperation were mixed in with nervousness, excitement and hope. He almost felt like he was living through another dream; unlike all the other ones that had haunted him for the past several days, however, this vision actually felt like a _promising _one.

Andrew nodded. "I've been expecting you," he told the other man. As Brian looked at him, somewhat surprised, he explained, "Brady called his wife after he spoke to you. He figured you were on your way here by the hasty exit you made at his office. She told me what had happened……so I could prepare for it."

"_Prepare_ for it?" Brian asked pointedly in anger. "This isn't some fucking _dress rehearsal_ I need to discuss with you. This is about...."

"I KNOW what this is about, Mr. Kinney," Andrew told him curtly. "And I know only too well what's on the line here. The question is…….do YOU?" He continued to stare at the taller man, astonished by how much he resembled Jacob's sketches; it was as if his roommate's drawings had come to life. He imperceptibly motioned with his hand to the right before Brian had a chance to reply. "Over there….." he indicated shortly, as he turned toward a faculty lounge located nearby. At this time of day he was hoping it would be empty; as Brian followed closely on his heels, he opened the door and was relieved to find that it was unoccupied.

Closing the door behind him, he gathered his thoughts and quickly tried to determine the best way to approach this agitated, impatiently waiting man. "Please sit down," he asked Brian politely, before he took his own place at one of the industrial, hard plastic lunch tables strewn amongst the vending machines.

"I'll stand, thanks," Brian snapped, as he leaned against the far wall. "Let's cut out all this _bullshit _right now. I want to know what the _HELL_ is going on here! And where is _JUSTIN_? I want to _see_ him!" _And hold him and kiss him, never let him go and never let him out of my sight ever again._ "Just what is your part in this? I want some _fucking _ANSWERS from you!"

"I'm sure you do," Andrew tartly replied. He sighed in exasperation; this was not getting them anywhere. "Look, Mr. Kinney……I will take you to see him. But before I do, there's some things you need to know. For Jacob's sake."

Brian crossed his hands over his chest and huffed an angry breath, eyes flashing with barely controlled fury. His voice rose as he slowly walked toward the other man, his hands gesturing as he spoke clearly. "First of all, his name is _JUSTIN_. Second of all, I've known him for six years now, so don't go fucking trying to tell me that YOU know what's best for him or dictate to me when I can _see_ him. You can just fucking get out of the way and _take_ me to him – NOW! If you won't cooperate with me, I'll figure out where he is on my own – I won't LEAVE this fucking city until I DO! _Count_ on it, doctor! Now what's it going to be – the easy way or the HARD way?"

Despite the man being only five feet away from him, Andrew was not going to be intimated, even though inside he was secretly fearful of the towering, raging man glaring at him. For his friend's sake, he was _not_ going to let this man deter him from making sure Jacob was not damaged any further. "I _told_ you already that I would take you to him," he countered evenly, holding his ground as he peered up at the man. "But as the initial treating doctor for him, I need for you to _know_ a few things first." He watched intently as the other man's face almost instantly changed from one of rage to concern, as worry flitted across his eyes. "Now if you will _SIT DOWN_, we can discuss this calmly. The sooner I talk to you about his medical condition, the sooner you can go _SEE_ him." Andrew still didn't know if this was the right approach to helping Jacob recover; he was certainly not a medical expert in neurological matters involving the brain. But he could tell this man was NOT going to be dissuaded from his intention to see Andrew's roommate at any cost. The least he could do, however, was make sure this other man knew exactly what they were dealing with; he just prayed that he was doing the right thing, medical confidentiality rules notwithstanding.

At the mention of Justin's _medical condition_, Brian's blood ran cold. He should have known there was something going on that would have prevented his partner from getting in touch with him immediately after the accident. Thoughts of resentment toward the other man immediately disappeared for the time being as his mind focused on more important, critical matters. He sagged slightly, his anger decreasing to a simmer, as he slowly pulled out a nearby chair and, straddling it backwards, sat down opposite the other man. "Tell me," he urged the other man anxiously, his voice slightly breaking as he nervously awaited the doctor's information.

Andrew took a calming breath; his doctor's training kicking in as he began to tell this man just what had happened to his partner. "Jacob was brought into the emergency room two weeks ago this coming Monday by a couple who had found him just outside town on Rt. 55. They told the admitting nurse that he was a stranger to them, that they had found him lying along the side of the road. They also told the nurse that when they had knelt alongside him, he was floating in and out of consciousness. The husband fortunately had had some medic training the army, and noticed he had some bruising along the right side of his skull."

Andrew heard the other man gasp involuntarily at the mention of Jacob's injury; the brunet visibly flinched as well. _This man apparently must know something about Jacob's previous head injury_, he surmised, reminding himself to ask about what he knew later before he continued the narration. "He luckily instructed his wife to help keep his head stable while they placed him in the back of their car and brought him here to the ER."

Brian closed his eyes in agony. _MY GOD_. _NOT another injury to his head._ "Go on," he whispered painfully, wanting to know the rest but again _not_ wanting to know.

Andrew nodded. "He was given treatment for the more superficial, external head bruising and also underwent a cranial x-ray and MRI to check for more critical internal injuries, which indicated fairly significant swelling around the cerebral cortex area….."

"Which affects cognitive memory," Brian supplied for him, as Andrew looked at him startled. "You've had medical training?" he asked the older man in surprise.

"No," Brian whispered, his voice cracking despite vowing to himself not to show any sign of weakness toward this other man. "Some fucking asshole took a bat to Justin's head when he was 17 over _philosophical differences_," he disclosed as he spat it out distastefully. "Sounds like it was pretty much in the same spot." He brushed his hands across his face in frustration and disbelief. "You learn a lot from doctors about the inner workings of the brain when someone's in a coma for a couple of weeks and loses motor control afterward," he revealed to Andrew.

Andrew looked over at him, stunned. A _baseball bat?!_ My God……..what kind of person would _DO_ that, especially to someone as sweet and kind as Jacob? "Dear God," he whispered aloud in horror. A flashback at his apartment came unbidden to his mind. Jacob's hand throbbing inexplicably in discomfort and pain. At the time he had thought it was just some residual effect from his unexplained, recent injury. "Did…….did he sustain damage to his hand during that assault…..his _right_ hand?" he asked the other man clinically.

"Yes," Brian simply whispered, trying hard not to relive that awful experience yet again. Until now, he thought that would be the most difficult, terrible ordeal of his life, even worse than when his old man had beaten him up just for kicks. Now he knew he was wrong – the past two weeks had by far been even _worse_. "He had to undergo therapy for several weeks for it, and even now it still acts up when he's used his hand too much." Thoughts of sitting beside Justin, gently and tenderly massaging the angrily-pulsating hand with his larger one, appeared to him in his mind before he forcefully turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand. _What was this man telling him? Oh, yeah……MRI, x-rays…..Cognitive memory._

Cognitive _memory_. Oh, Shit…….The pieces suddenly, abruptly fell into place. All his wondering, the most critical issue while on the way from Coleman's office to the hospital, instantly disappeared. His wondering why Justin hadn't contacted him after being injured. The _ONLY_ reason there could possibly be for why the man he loved, and the man he felt sure loved him just as deeply in return, hadn't reached out to him after somehow, miraculously surviving that awful accident.

"His _memory_ has been affected, hasn't it?" Brian asked the other man intuitively, worry again etched on his face – clearly shown in his eyes that were wide with concern, and in the wrinkled lines on his brow. As the other man nodded in confirmation, he asked hesitantly, "Just how _much_ has it been affected? What DOES he remember?"

Andrew pursed his lips and curled them into his mouth; _how much should he tell this man_? Thoughts of Jacob's nightmares these past several nights, the man's agony over not knowing about himself and his past, and his constant dreams and visions of the brunet now staring back at him in the flesh, flashed through his mind. _Everything……_he decided. For Jacob's sake……_everything_. Taking a deep breath, he began to reveal it all. "Initially, his memory loss was total. He was suffering from what is known as retrograde amnesia – total loss of previous events prior to the accident. He didn't even know his _name _– the name he is going by now was given to him by Brady's wife, actually, who was his initial tending nurse immediately after he was admitted. She knew someone else by that name, and thought he deserved something better than just _John Doe_," he explained to the other man.

"He didn't know where he was from, how he had gotten injured; nothing at all prior to the trauma." Looking at the other man somewhat regretfully now, he divulged, "Of course, everyone here knew about the train accident the day before. But the devastation was so total, and the fire marshal was so adamant that there could not have been any survivors, no one here even thought to put two and two together. After all, Rt. 55 is a _long_ highway here in Harrisburg, and the couple did not reveal exactly where they had found him that day. And naturally, Jacob couldn't tell us." He grimaced ruefully as he admitted, "In hindsight, we should have been more diligent in determining a connection there. But Jacob, of course, couldn't recall and no one simply connected the dots correctly…..until _now_, that is," he concluded, as he looked over at the other man, who had his eyes closed momentarily. What the other man was thinking wasn't exactly clear to Andrew; but he could easily see a mixture of emotions displayed on the man's face: grief, pain, concern, worry, realization, and…….love.

"Anyway," the doctor continued, as Brian finally opened his eyes again to follow his narrative. "He was well enough after a couple of days – outwardly, at least – to be discharged. He couldn't very well be dismissed from the hospital on his own – not even knowing who he was or anything – and his condition was going to have to be closely monitored, even with outpatient treatment. My roommate had recently transferred out of town, and I had an extra bedroom, so I offered to let Jacob stay with me for a while until he improved and was able to get back on his feet. He's been there now for almost two weeks now," he advised the other man.

Brian shook his head, still in shock and overwhelmed by the information overload. In less than twenty-four hours, he had gone from being emotionally distraught and at the lowest fucking point of his entire life to a feeling of hope and then extreme exhilaration at the discovery that the man who had totally captured his heart so firmly and had turned him into the man he kept so hidden deep himself was...... _alive_. Broken, yes, but _ALIVE_. He had had enough talk. He knew enough. He knew what he was facing – what they _BOTH_ were facing. But they would face it _together _now. Pushing himself back from the table and standing up, he announced, "I've heard enough, _doctor_. I need to see him – NOW."

Andrew reached out and firmly placed his hand on the man's arm that was supporting his weight against the table. "Wait," he implored the man urgently. "I WILL take you to see him – soon. But you need to hear just a little more. If you truly want to help him – and I believe you _do_ – you need to know as much about his condition as possible."

Brian turned his eyes to the ceiling, indecision warring within him. His need to see Justin so fucking badly was battling with his innate sense that this man – this doctor – was probably making sense. He _did_ need to know everything – in order to help Justin. "Okay," he finally conceded, refusing to sit down, however. "I'm listening," he acknowledged, as Andrew removed his arm. "But make it _fast_ – I need to SEE him." He stood up fully now, his hands on his hips impatiently.

Andrew nodded his understanding. "I already knew who you were before you got here. Even if Michelle hadn't told me about Brady's call," he advised the other man, who merely raised his eyebrow curiously. "I noticed Jacob drawing something for a little girl here in the hospital when he was waiting to have one of his tests done, and I was floored by his artistic talent. A few days after he came home to stay with me, I bought him a sketchpad and a couple of canvasses for him to work on while I was at the hospital to pass the time. Until he started drawing in the sketchbook, I would have never known about you. But somehow despite his memory loss, Jacob still remembered _you_."

Brian looked at him in shock. He thought the man had told him he didn't recall _anything_. "I thought you told me he didn't remember _anything prior to the accident_."

"Not _outwardly_ in the traditional, medical sense," Andrew explained. "But every drawing he made, even the second painting he worked on, focused on one subject: YOU. He even dreamed about you – called you by name. That's how he somehow knew the name of the man he was constantly thinking about was _your name_." Andrew swallowed a lump in his throat. He cared so much for Jacob; it hurt to know that even if Jacob couldn't remember much of his life prior to the accident, somehow he still remembered this other man who was now looking at him with a sense of renewed hope.

Brian's heart soared; so Justin hadn't forgotten _everything_. He just needed to be reminded of what he had lost. And Brian was determined to see that his partner remembered it ALL. He suddenly recalled what Blake had told him – could the man actually have been telling him the _truth_? "Did you and Justin travel to Pittsburgh the other day? To my club? That was YOU?"

Andrew gazed at him, shocked. "Yes. Jacob had had a dream – a _nightmare_, more accurately – about being involved in the bombing that occurred about a year ago, and was convinced he was part of the event. He found out the bombing he imagined in his dream had, in fact, actually occurred and was insistent on traveling to Pittsburgh to find out more. He can be _very_ persistent, as well as stubborn," he added.

Brian actually smiled a little at that comment; apparently _some_ things hadn't changed, despite Justin's significant issues with his memory. "I know," he breathlessly whispered, as he tried hard to not revisit that terrible night at Babylon when Mikey was critically injured and he was scared out of his fucking wits over where Justin was. After all, that was the first time he had admitted to Justin what the blond actually knew all along – that he loved him with all his heart.

"How…..how did you _know?_" Andrew asked him now, surprised by the man's knowledge of their visit.

Brian sighed as he rolled his eyes in guilt. _How could he have known that Blake would be telling the truth? Justin was supposed to be DEAD._ _How wonderful it felt now to know that he was WRONG about that_. He resolved at some point to tell Blake just how wrong he had been…..he would be more than _HAPPY_ to tell the man that. AFTER he took care of what – whom – was most important. "Someone who knew Justin told me he had seen him with another man in front of the club. I just couldn't believe him……I mean, how could I? Justin was supposed to be dead by then. It was impossible……or so I thought." He shook his head – if only he had chosen to believe the impossible back _then _– he could have been that much closer to being with Justin. Impatiently now, he urged the man, "Are you done now, doctor? I need to fucking _SEE _him."

"Almost," Andrew assured him. "Speaking of the club, you need to be aware that he injured his hand when we went to Pittsburgh. His _left_ hand," he hurriedly clarified, as he noticed Brian's face turn white. "He was……understandably very upset by the club being closed for remodeling." Almost apologetically, he revealed to the other man, "He became extremely frustrated by not being able to get some answers that he smashed his hand into the metal door and sprained it. It's in a sling right now and a temporary cast. He didn't do any permanent harm to it," he assured the other man, who had closed his eyes again in pain. "But it hurts occasionally still, so he takes a pain pill for it when it does." Before Brian had the chance to dismiss their conversation, he added one more word of caution; he knew the other man's patience was up several minutes ago; hell, from the second they had entered the room, actually. "One last thing," he warned him. "I'm not sure my letting you see him is in his best interests, medically speaking," he advised. "Let me finish," he insisted, as he noticed Brian about to utter a strong, angry and vehement protest at his words. "I promised I would take you to see him, and I _will_. You just need to realize, though, that this may be a major shock to him. I'm not sure just what his reaction will be, or how it will affect him. So before we go, I need to get your word that you will give me a few minutes to see him _alone_. To prepare him for you."

"_PREPARE_ him for me?" Brian spat out. "This is my _PARTNER_ we're talking about! Do you think I would do anything that would _hurt _him?! Do you have any concept as to how much _HURT_ _I've_ been through in the past two weeks, thinking that he was dead?"

"Yeah," Andrew answered him truthfully. "I think I do," he added softly. _Probably as much hurt as I am about to go through when you take him AWAY from me. _If he were being honest with himself, though, he couldn't have something taken away from him that never actually belonged to him in the first place. Aloud, he resolutely told the other man, "If you love him as much as I _think_ you do, you will do this – for _HIM_. If you want him back anywhere near the way he was before, you will at least give me a couple of minutes to try and cushion the shock over seeing the man in person that he has been constantly dreaming about and sketching over and over again. Only then will I let you see him. Are we in agreement?" he asked the man, staring at him defiantly.

Brian challenged his authority for several seconds as he boldly returned his stare; the gall of this man, teling him what he could or couldn't do when it came to Justin. When the doctor did not back down, however, Brian concluded, reluctantly, that he was probably right. As desperately and as badly as he needed to see his partner – his _ALIVE_ partner – God, how _WONDERFUL_ that sounded! – he knew deep down the man was correct. In his condition, Justin needed a little advance preparation for their reunion from someone he had come to depend upon in the past couple of weeks. The man's help toward his partner, however, was about to come to an end. Brian would make sure that Justin received whatever he needed – medical help, time, money, and plenty of love – whatever the fuck he possibly required, in order to recover from his memory loss. He would see to that – no matter WHAT it took.

He took a deep breath; he was about to have the most important encounter of his life. His body thrummed with excitement now and urgent anticipation as his heart finally swelled with hope and joy. "I agree," he finally announced.

Andrew nodded, satisfied that this man would, indeed, keep his word. "Then let's go," he simply indicated, as he sat up from his chair and walked toward the door. "I'll tell the nursing staff I need to take a quick break – I only live a few minutes from here," he advised the brunet.

_One SECOND is way too long,_ Brian concluded, as a warm, bathing light finally poured into him. _Hang on, Sunshine – I'm coming._


	22. Chapter 22: I Won't Give Up

The five-minute drive from the hospital to Andrew's apartment seemed like an eternity, as the two men sat in relative, uncomfortable silence. Both men were lost in thought; oddly enough, if they could have read each other's mind, they would have realized they were at two totally different ends of a spectrum; one regretting what he was no doubt about to lose, and the other one rejoicing inside over what he hoped he was about to regain.

Andrew stole a quick look at the man sitting next to him; he did not become a successful doctor by being obtuse, so he could tell by the other man's reaction to his narrative about Jacob – _Justin_, _he would have to get used to that name_ – that he loved the other man very much. The concern in the hazel eyes, the tense, rigid stance of the long, classically-dressed frame as he recounted for him the man's injuries, the barely-controlled anger and impatience over not being able to see him immediately. These responses were _not_ the reactions of a casually-interested acquaintance, a good friend. These actions were indicative of a man deeply in love, a fact that Andrew could not deny that he found extremely painful. How could he possibly compete with _that_?

But he also knew that the other man may be bitterly disappointed to find that Justin did not reciprocate his feelings as strongly. Because as much as he knew his roommate did in fact remember this other man somehow, and no doubt harbored deep feelings for him _somewhere_ in his mind, his memory was still significantly impaired. Was this man, then, expecting too much? Or was Andrew just _hoping_ that would happen?

Brian, meanwhile, was absorbed in his own thoughts. His heart had begun beating faster in his chest from the first second he had seen Justin's painting at Coleman's conference room, and it seemed to pound more furiously now that they were getting closer to their destination. As he stared out at the streets meditatively, he recalled a conversation he had had with his son only a few days ago – a time when he had thought everything most precious to him had been lost (_almost _everything, that is) and a time when he had tried but just didn't have the guts or the heart to tell his son what was going on with Justin (why did it seem more like a _lifetime_ ago now?):

_Well, all you have to do is think about your Poppa right here," he told the boy, as he placed his own hand over his heart, "and he will always be with you, no matter where you are." _

Brian slowly placed his long fingers over his chest again, listening as his heartbeat played a more optimistic, hopeful sound this time. _I was RIGHT, Sonny Boy. He IS here. I can FEEL him now – more than ever. And soon I'll get to see him. Soon we BOTH will get to see him_. He smiled slightly to himself as he thought of his son and Justin's eventual reunion. _Thank God_ _I never told him. Now I won't HAVE to._

"We're almost there." The silence was at last broken as Andrew curtly advised Brian they were nearing his apartment. Brian stole a quick glance over at his driving companion, whose lips were pursed in…..what? Determination? Disappointment? Concern? Brian wasn't sure. He strongly suspected this man had more than just a passing interest in his partner. For him to take a virtual stranger in – no matter _what_ his condition – and take care of him, allow him to stay in his apartment without really knowing anything about him – there had to be more than just a clinical interest in him. And from what Coleman had told him, the man had brought Justin with him to the benefit the other night. Yes, this man was _interested_ in Justin, and not in just a professional sense. For the second time that day, Brian worked hard to squelch the bile of jealousy that rose from his stomach. Just how close _had_ this man and Justin become in the past two weeks? _But_ n_ow was NOT the time to devote his time and energy on analyzing the complex feelings of the man sitting next to him; now was the time to focus on JUSTIN._

Brian nodded in response to the statement; his heart continuing to feel like it was virtually coming out of his chest the closer they got to the man's apartment. His wiped his sweaty hands against his pants; he hadn't felt this type of almost tense nervousness since he had lost his virginity so long ago to that teacher. In a weird sort of way, it almost felt like he and Justin were starting over again. Maybe they _were_ in a sense. This was one scenario he could never have dreamed he would ever experience; he would just have to wait and see what was in store for both of them and deal with it then. He DID know one thing, however; no matter what it was, they would deal with it and work through it like they had done countless times before – _together_.

He watched as the other man pulled up in front of a square, brick, Georgian type structure and turned right into a driveway that wrapped around to the back of the building. "I'd prefer we go in through the back," he explained to Brian. "I think it best he not see you first before I talk to him."

Brian bit back a sharp retort at the man's comment; he thought he understood why the doctor felt a need to talk to Justin first, but that didn't mean he still didn't _resent_ it. He thought the man had a lot of nerve taking over in this situation; he knew Justin better than anyone – certainly better than _this_ man professed to – and he found it extremely distasteful for this relative stranger to be negotiating the terms of their reunion. But deep down, Brian knew the most important issue was Justin's mental health – and if this doctor thought this was the best method and would cause the least amount of possible damage, he would just have to suck it up and tolerate it for now. _For now_.

As Andrew pulled into the first-floor carport and turned off the engine, he turned to Brian. "My apartment's on the second floor," he advised, as he opened the door to get out. Brian paused momentarily, uncertain of what to do, until the doctor added, "There's a small foyer downstairs. Why don't you come in and wait there until I come down and get you?"

Brian let out a frustrated sigh; he still hated having to wait to see Justin. Did this man have any concept how much he was asking of him? Did he have any idea just what he had gone through in the past two weeks? If he knew, and he had any inkling as to just how much he loved Justin, he would maybe then have a slight idea of how terribly difficult it was going to be waiting until the doctor deemed it _suitable_ for him to come up and see his partner. The next few minutes were going to feel like _forever_ for him. Resigned to following the doctor's directions, however, he confirmed out loud, "Okay. But just so we're on the same page. I'll give you fifteen minutes tops. If you're not out of there by then, I'm coming _in_, regardless. Understand?" He stared over at the other man unflinchingly; he was NOT about to back down this time.

Andrew stared back at the intense hazel eyes that were flashing with determination and stubbornness. He could see there was no point in arguing with him. And he knew without a doubt the man would, indeed, come barging up the steps if he exceeded the time frame by as much as a millisecond. He let out a small breath of his own in acceptance before replying defensively, "I understand," as he pulled himself up out of the driver's side and waited for Brian to join him.

Brian unlatched his seatbelt and rose from the passenger side. Quickly walking around the car to join the other man, he followed him as they walked toward a back entrance to the apartment building and entered. As he watched the younger man ascend a pair of stairs for the upper floor, Brian's heart continued to pound and he could feel the adrenaline rush as he realized he was about to see the man he thought he would never, ever again have the opportunity to see, at least in _this _lifetime. Spotting an antique-looking, Victorian stuffed chair, he finally plopped himself down with a loud rush of spent air and restlessly peered upstairs, wishing he could be like Superman and look through the apartment walls to see his partner.

The next few minutes until he could see Justin, until he could look into those blue eyes that were so unique to only him, until he could touch him, until he could hold him and smell him, were going to be the most excruciatingly, longest fucking moments of his entire life.

* * *

Andrew slowly walked toward his apartment door, trying to rehearse in his mind just how we was going to approach his conversation with….._Justin_. He might as well get used to that name, because there was no longer any question as to his friend's identity, not after he had seen Brian Kinney; he might as well have been looking at a mirror, the likeness was so uncanny. But there were just no instructions on how to handle _this _conversation, he decided. He would just have to go with his instincts this time.

He slowly opened the door to greet his roommate. As he looked around, he spotted the blond working on the second unfinished canvas in the living room, paint smeared on his good hand as he slowly brushed a maroon-colored tint onto the surface. He observed Justin did not have the sling on; his damaged hand was finally healing enough that he was able to stop using the sling to stabilize it.

Justin looked up at him as he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. "Hey!" he greeted the other man, smiling. "What are you _doing_ here? I thought you told me you wouldn't be back for lunch today." He placed his brush down and wiped the stray smears from his hand onto a nearby paper towel. "Do you want me to fix you something?"

Andrew smiled, despite his nervousness; some things never changed, it seemed. "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to wait on me hand and foot?" he asked gently, as he approached the other man and peered at the painting in progress. He noticed it was now almost complete; the only remaining part that still had to be finished was filling in the rest of the couch that Brian and the little boy were perched on. "That's really great," he told Justin, who smiled shyly.

"Thanks," he replied. "I'm almost done – I just have to finish the couch. I really don't know what I'll do with it once I get it done, but it helps me. It makes me _feel _better. It makes me think that maybe, just maybe it will help me to remember, too." He looked over at Andrew, who was unusually quiet and was pensively, almost nervously, staring at him. "What?" he asked, concerned.

"Uh…..Jacob……I think we should sit down. I have something to tell you. Something extremely important."

Justin looked at him, worried. "It's not about one of my test results, is it? Is it bad news, Andrew? I don't think I could take any more bad news right now," he admitted, as Andrew temporarily took his right arm and steered him over to the couch.

As they both sat down facing each other, Andrew shook his head. "No. It doesn't really have anything to do with your tests or your treatment." He took a deep breath. For Jacob's……_Justin's_ sake, he would put as positive a spin on this as he could, even though his own heart was breaking just a little at the loss he felt was about to occur for _him_. "It's actually _good_ news," he reported, trying hard to put a reassuring smile on his face. He saw the other man staring at him curiously as he explained, "Someone came to see me today. Someone who _knows_ you."

Justin narrowed his forehead, confused. "You mean…..Michelle?" he asked, puzzled. She was about the only other person he knew at the hospital, other than the little girl, Kayla, that he had befriended down at the children's ward. At least the only other person whose name he could recall.

Andrew shook his head. Softly, gently, he revealed, "No, Jacob, someone who _really_ knows you. Actually, I shouldn't call you Jacob any longer……it's _Justin_," he said slowly. "_Justin Taylor._" He looked intently at Justin, trying to see if there was a flicker of recognition, of acknowledgment, there.

Justin frowned. "Justin? That's who I _am? _Who I _really _am?" Hope and a feeling of something that was _right_ began to warm his heart. As Andrew nodded to reassure him he was absolutely serious, Justin's breath caught in his throat as he asked the burning question, "_Who_ came to see you then, Andrew? Who was it?" His heart began pumping faster, and he felt his chest flush as he held his breath for the response. Somehow, though, he knew.......he _knew._

Andrew inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. _This is it_, he thought. He bit his upper lip for a few seconds before he whispered, "It was your man in the sketches and in your painting over there," he divulged, as he nodded his head toward the coffee table. "_Brian_. _Brian Kinney_."

At the sound of the other man's name, the man who unknown to his partner was urgently waiting downstairs for his chance to see Justin again, the blond's mouth fell open, stunned. A myriad of emotions played across the beautiful face as Andrew studied him. He tried to determine what they were – surprise to an extent, definitely, but he couldn't quite be sure of the other feelings. "Justin?" he asked the other man, this time using his _true _name. "Are you all right?"

Justin looked away from Andrew, his mind reeling and his head spinning. Brian? _His_ Brian? The man who had been a pervasive visitor in almost every dream each night, and in every drawing he had created for the past two weeks, he was at the _hospital_ today? Justin closed his eyes, trying furiously to put a jumble of pieces together into a coherent memory of the man. He felt like the truth, the memories of who he was and how he had gotten there, were _SO close, so damn close_. He felt like he could almost reach out with his hand and grab them. _So close………so damn close._

Andrew watched as his friend suddenly, almost violently, shook his head in frustration; abruptly, however, he just as quickly turned back to look at him, his present predicament apparently pushed to the background; there was a much more _important _matter to address at the moment.

A torrent of questions rushed out as he asked the other man urgently, "Andrew – what about _Brian_? How did he wind up at the hospital? Where _is _he? I have to _SEE_ him, _TALK to him_. Andrew, tell me!" he demanded anxiously, his eyes flashing with impatience. "He's the _key – _I KNOW it! I have to go SEE him now! Where is he? Tell me!" Justin started to rise from his seat, prepared to go find the other man no matter _where_ he was. He couldn't lose this chance, not when he was so close….

Andrew gently pushed Justin back down onto the couch. "Justin……_listen to me_. Brian is _here_."

Justin frowned at him; surely he didn't hear what he thought he had heard Andrew say correctly. "Brian.....he's _here_? What do you mean? Here in Harrisburg – is he waiting at the hospital to talk to me? _Tell me_," he demanded urgently, his slender hands grasped tightly together, his knuckles whitening from the grip.

Andrew smirked. "No, Justin," he explained. "It seems you and this Brian have something in common when it comes to impatience. You're both just alike. He's _here…….downstairs. Waiting for you, to TALK to you._ In fact, he's pretty much chomping at the _bit_ to see you."

Justin stood up, preparing to rush over to the door. "He's _here_?" he asked the other man. "I don't understand. Why didn't he come UP with you? What is he _waiting _for?"

Andrew stood next to his friend and placed a hand on his arm to restrain him. "Justin, listen to me. I wanted to talk to you first…..to _prepare_ you to see him. I just wanted to make sure you were all right with this."

"Andrew……I finally get a chance after almost two weeks to see and talk to someone who _knows _me. The _REAL _me. No…..not just _someone_ who knows me. _Brian_. The man I've seen in my dreams and drawn so many times since my accident. Andrew," Justin said, staring at him intently. "Get him _up_ here….now. I HAVE to see him. Please."

Andrew looked at Justin's expressive face, heard the pleading in his voice, stared at the blue eyes that were so intense that they seemed to see right through to your soul. _God – this man could talk someone into doing ANYTHING_. Even something as difficult as bringing another man – a rival and a competitor – to see him, to help him. To most likely take him _away_ from him for good. He sighed softly in defeat, but also maybe a little in acceptance. "Okay, okay, Justin," he told the man softly. "I'll go get him," he assured the other man, noticing Justin's face lighting up with hope. "Stay here," he asked. "I'll be right back."

Brian glanced again at his watch in extreme impatience; it had now been 10 minutes since the doctor had walked upstairs to his apartment. He jiggled his legs in frustration as he waited for the interminable time frame to end. What was the man _doing?!_ And why in the hell did he ever agree to wait 15 minutes until he could see Justin? Was he out of his _fucking mind?!_ What if the man was up there telling lies about him, or not telling Justin about him at _all_? If the man thought he was just going to go away with his tail between his legs without seeing his partner, he was fucking crazy. He wasn't going _anywhere_.

_To HELL with their agreement_. Fed up with the waiting, he rose quickly from the chair, preparing to stomp upstairs and take back what was his NOW, when he heard a door opening and then shutting. Looking up, he saw the doctor coming back down toward him. He didn't even wait for the other man to take two steps downward before he was trotting quickly up the steps to meet him near the top.

"About _fucking_ _time_ you came back," he growled. "Which one _is_ it?" he asked the other man, trying to look around the other man to see how many doors there were. He was fully intending to see his partner _alone; _he didn't need this man tailing along after him, watching the two of them like a voyeur or a bodyguard.

"I don't think that's a….."

"The _hell_ with what you think," Brian snapped rudely. "Stay here," he ordered, as he pointed a finger at him in emphasis. "I want to see him _alone_." _God, I_ _need to see him_ _so badly_. He pushed the man aside somewhat roughly as he forged ahead and walked hurriedly up the rest of the stairs. He noticed to his chagrin there were two doors at the end of the hallway in the direction the other man had come. Turning quickly back toward Andrew, he barked, "Which one?"

Andrew bit his lip and sighed loudly; this was _not_ going the way he had hoped. He really wanted to be present when the man was reunited with Justin; he was afraid of just what might happen to his friend's mental state; was he going to be frightened? Would he regress further into himself from the shock? There was no way of knowing, but looking at the determined man staring impatiently at him, he knew there was no way to stop the inevitable. He let out a strong exhale of annoyance and finally divulged softly, "Last door on the right - #4." The words were barely out of his mouth before Brian quickly turned around and almost ran toward the correct door, which was presently closed. After a few seconds of indecision, Andrew decided to slowly and quietly follow the other man up the stairs; what he would do after that, he wasn't sure.

* * *

Justin stood in stunned shock after Andrew had left; he had indicated he was bringing Brian back up with him. The blond knew in just a few short minutes' time, or maybe even less, he would be face to face with the person he had dreamed about and thought of almost constantly since his accident. What he found so terribly frustrating, however, was that he still couldn't put all the pieces together; he realized instinctively that he knew this man; knew him intimately, he felt. Then why couldn't he figure out the rest of the puzzle? Why wouldn't the rest of his memories fall into place? Why hadn't he even been able to figure out his fucking name until Brian told Andrew what it was? None of this made any sense to him. He only hoped that once he actually _saw_ Brian, it would somehow miraculously restore his memories. He knew, of course, that that was undoubtedly a foolish, unrealistic hope; _nothing_ could ever be that easy, especially a situation as serious as this.

After his roommate had left, he continued to stand by the couch; he didn't know what to do. His body was trembling from anticipation, and his heart was beating so fast. He bit his lip in nervousness and clasped his hands together tightly; what would this man's reaction to him be? What would _HIS OWN _reaction be? He was about to find out, because just then he heard the door opening slowly. Hardly daring to breathe, he stood cemented to the spot, unable to move or look away. _This was it._ He licked his lips and stared at the door, his breathng suddenly shallow as he waited tensely for Brian to appear.

* * *

Brian had rushed down the hallway urgently, but as he neared the apartment door, he found himself inexplicably slowing. His entire body was thrumming with nervousness, and his pulse was in overdrive. _God, please don't let me wrong here_. The past two weeks quickly flashed through his mind……the terrible, gut wrenching news of the accident, his heart torn violently in two. His utter denial of Justin's death at all, until the look on Michael's face told him the awful, horrible truth; the thought of never being able to see his partner's face or hear his voice ever again. Never being able to touch him, hear his laughter, hear him calling his name in the way that only _he_ could do. Never feel his arms around him again when they woke up together in bed after a long, passionate-filled night of lovemaking. He prayed that all of that was about to dissolve away. A mantra started in his head: _Please let it be true_. _Please let the past two weeks disappear. Please bring him back to me. If this is a dream, don't wake me up – ever._

Pleading desperately that he wasn't in some horrible dream and that somehow he hadn't imagined all this, he took one final, deep breath in an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself before he placed an extremely shaky, unsteady hand on the door knob and slowly turned it.

The first thing he noticed was how the apartment was bathed in bright sunlight behind where his partner stood; it almost made Justin look ethereal. It was so fucking like that first night, Brian thought, when he had seen a scared, shy, but beautiful angel standing under that light post, almost like he was waiting for only him. Now, as he drank in the sight of that same boy, now a man, standing unsure and hesitant in front of him, he was transported once again to that first meeting. Back then, he had been so intent on not scaring Justin, not doing anything that would make him regret deciding to go with him back to the loft. Little did Brian realize back then, however, that a one-time, exciting casual fuck would turn into the love of a lifetime. Only now did he realize what he had risked losing by trying to turn Justin away after that first night. He would _not_ make that mistake this time.

Brian noticed Justin's extreme nervousness as the blond stood there trembling; the uncertainty on his pale face as to what to do, what to say. The eyes, though still the same, wonderful shade of intense blue, were staring at him so intently, almost like he was trying to make sure he wasn't imagining him.

Finally, a whisper from the voice Brian thought had been stilled forever. "Brian?" Justin asked softly; he bit his lower lip and let out a small sigh, never taking his eyes off the other man.

Brian closed his eyes in rapture; _no, he WASN'T dreaming…….was he?_ Despite what his eyes and ears were telling him, he HAD to know. Slowly approaching the other man, who appeared like a deer caught in the headlights, unsure whether to flee or not, he stopped when he was less than five feet away, his eyes refusing to blink for fear they would open back up and the vision in front of him would be gone.

"Yes," Brian breathed out. "It's me, Sunshine," he said, not able to stop the pet name from escaping his lips. He never thought he would ever say that name again; he had vowed to himself that it would never escape his lips for the rest of his life; after Justin was gone, there would have never been a reason to. There could be only one _Sunshine_. How utterly wonderful it was to find that he was _wrong_. That he had a need to use it _again_.

"Justin," he murmured, now slowly walking closer. "Can…….," Brian began. _Dare he ASK him? God, he HAD to. He HAD to. _He took another breath and began again. "Can I……. Can I _touch_ you?" he whispered softly, tentatively, almost shyly now, his voice full of hope and longing.

Justin flushed; his face turning a bright shade of pink as the other man's intense stare made his face feel hot. The way he was looking at him, almost like he could _devour_ him. But for some inexplicable reason, he didn't feel afraid of him, not because of the way he was looking at him. On the contrary, it made him feel loved, and…..._whole_.

A sudden flashback flooded his mind…..Another time when he had felt shy, almost embarrassed in front of this man:

"You mean…..you kissed me…….in front of _everybody_?" He had asked him, amazement in his voice.

"Yeah," he saw Brian answering him in his mind's eye. "You should have _been_ there."

Justin frowned slightly, trying hard to conjure up the rest of the picture, before he realized the other man was still waiting anxiously for his answer; the brunet's arms were extended out toward him, as if he were physically craving his touch, as if it were a sickness, but still hesitant, as if he were somehow afraid to proceed without permission. He didn't realize how _right_ he was - there would be no cure for the other man's disease - EVER. A shadow of a smile appeared on his face as he answered, somewhat shyly, "Okay," he whispered finally. At just that one word, those two syllables, he saw Brian's face lit up; the hazel eyes, which had appeared cloudy, almost listless at first, were now flecked with gold and alive with light, the orbs huge and wide with anticipation, with hope, with yearning.

Brian reached out his arms, keeping them held out as he inched closer to his target. Once again, he prayed silently, _if this IS a dream, please don't let me wake up; but please, God, let it be REAL_, just before his hands made real, physical contact with his target.

"Oh, God," he breathed out. "Oh, God." His hands slowly, gently, and tenderly snaked around the other man's waist, almost as if he thought the other man might splinter into a million pieces and float through his hands like dust if he held him too tightly. "Justin," he breathed out in a type of reverent prayer as he cradled his head on top of the soft, blond one and breathed a whispered sign of contentment, of completion. "Justin." He thought he never again would have the chance to say that name to his partner, his love. Now the ability to not only say his name to him, but to feel the slender, warm and soft body so familiar to him now snuggled against him, was almost overwhelming and overpowering in its intensity. The smell of the hair, the oh-so-familiar feel of the pliant body being held against his own, the soft sigh that he heard escape the full lips. Oh, how he had missed this. Only now did he realize his life had stopped almost two weeks ago, and only now did he realize it had finally started up again as he felt warmth invading his soul.

He finally risked a firmer embrace, as his hands wrapped the other man in a stronger hold. _God…..this feels SO good, so right._ The two of them stood there for several minutes, neither man talking, as they communicated solely through their touch. Brian was almost afraid to loosen his hold, for fear somehow Justin would disappear like a ghost. But finally, he dared to loosen his hold just a little; he _had_ to look into those eyes.

As he slowly, reluctantly, removed his head from its soft perch, he leaned back just enough to peer down at the other man's blue, sapphire eyes, which were staring back up at him with a mixture of excitement and nervousness; maybe even a little awkwardness. Brian wasn't accustomed to seeing any type of hesitation from his partner; indeed, their relationship had always been exuberant, wild, and uninhibited. To see any discomfort from Justin, then, was a bit of a shock. But Brian also was sure he saw a look of hope, of security in the shining eyes staring back at him. For Brian, that would be enough or now. He was confident in their love, and the depth of that love, so he knew the rest would come in time.

Justin noticed the other man smile at him in reassurance, the love and adoration so obvious in the intense look that he was giving him; it was as if the other man had just come out of the desert after an arduous journey with a parched soul and was replenishing it by drinking him in. He actually blushed as Brian continued to stare unabashedly at him, the emotions on his face so open, so instantly readable. _I ADORE YOU, Justin Taylor…..here I am – look at me; FEEL it._ The emotion was so palpable, so completely transparent, that he actually felt a little guilty that he couldn't fully reciprocate, at least for now.

Justin tentatively returned the other's man loose embrace, wrapping his smaller hands slowly around the brunet's firm back; the gesture, while not feeling totally familiar to him, still seemed _right_….._safe. _He found himself surprised by how much such a seemingly simple movement could generate such a strong reaction as he heard the other man sigh in pleasure. "Brian," he began softly, returning the other man's gaze and noticing his lips break out in a joyful, radiant smile at the sound of Justin saying his name.

He didn't really even know what he wanted to say to Brian at the moment; his head was spinning with the sensations his body was feeling in this man's embrace, by the words of almost prayer-like reverence he was hearing, and most of all, by the intense looks of love that were presently pouring from the brunet's face.

"What _is_ it, Justin?" Brian asked him tenderly, gently, the smile still not leaving his face. Right now, Justin could have recited the fucking _alphabet _and Brian's reaction would have still been the same. He knew he must have had a silly grin on his face right now, but he just couldn't help it. Having the chance to hold Justin in his arms again, to feel his soft, familiar body molded against him, and best of all to hear his voice say his _name_ again….this was _heaven_. This was _real_. This was NO DREAM. He didn't care if he looked silly….he felt _alive_ again. "Tell me," he urged him softly. "You can tell me _anything_."

He noticed the look of slight sadness and of what, – embarrassment? – flit across the beautiful face before Justin admitted, "I'm not sure what Andrew has told you……about my _condition_."

Brian slowly rubbed small circles across Justin's back as he whispered, "I know about your memory loss, Sunshine. I know there's a lot you don't remember. At least not outwardly. But he told me about all the sketches you've drawn since the accident, how you had these dreams about us, and how the two of you actually travelled to the club in hopes of finding me."

Justin thought _Brian_ looked embarrassed now as he added, his voice filled with regret, "If I had only known……If I had known you would go there, Justin, I never would have left town for the weekend, and I certainly wouldn't have had the club completely overhauled. If I had only known……you were still fucking _alive_…….the past two weeks wouldn't have been the hell that they were," he divulged, his voice breaking as he relived the most terrible time of his life. As he noticed Justin's face contorting with sorrow and guilt, he sought to quickly assuage any feelings of responsibility from his partner, adding, his face once more breaking out into a soft, loving smile, "But now I get to live through the _best_ time of my life. Because you're here…..you're _alive_…….you're fucking _ALIVE_! And we're together. That's all that counts now."

Justin, however, was not completely persuaded. "But, Brian……I'm _broken!_ I can't remember things the way they were…..at least not yet. I _did_ dream about us……every night. And I _did_ sketch all kinds of pictures of you. And in my mind I can see the two of us together……the things we did, how happy we were. But right now it's as if I'm watching a movie of someone else! I fucking _hate _it, Brian, but that's the _reality_ of my life right now! Is it fair to expect you to wait and hope that things will go back to the way we were? Is that fair to _you_?" His eyes filled with tears of sadness and frustration, and regret – regret for what he and Brian once had, but what they may never get back again.

Brian quickly took his hands and placed them firmly on either side of Justin's head, forcing the blond to stare up into the fiery, determined eyes. "Listen to me, Justin," he growled, his voice cracking slightly. He rubbed his thumbs across the other man's cheeks as he demanded, "You let ME decide what's fair for _me_, okay? I _LOVE _you, damn it! I _know_ what we had! And I know it's worth _fighting_ for! I'm NOT going to give up on us. Do you understand?!" he cried. _Please, Sunshine…..Don't give up on us. I won't LET you._

Justin stared at this emotional, passionate, elegantly-beautiful man who had occupied his thoughts night and day constantly for the past two weeks. This man who stared back at him so intensely now, the feelings of love and determination rolling off him like waves. It _scared_ him – scared him that his every thought could center on this man but he couldn't quite make the dots connect, not the way he needed to be able to in order to reciprocate the strong feelings Brian felt for _him_. But he knew when Brian held him in his arms like this, when he looked at him like this, when he said his name with so much love, that there was something _special_ there. Something he felt was worth _fighting_ for. He _wanted_ to be able to look at Brian the same way he was looking at him right now. If _Brian_ was willing to help him with it, maybe, just maybe, he could find a way back to him…..back to _them_.

Brian held his breath as he saw a mixture of emotions rush across his partner's pale, beautiful face, before he saw what he thought was a look of resolution, hope, and fortitude creep into the mesmerizing sapphire eyes. He felt he was correct when, at last, Justin smiled up at him; the tears were still glistening, unshed, in the beautiful eyes, but now Brian thought they were tears of joy, not sorrow. "No, Brian," he began, as Brian's heart began to sink. _Had he been wrong? Was Justin so willing to give up on them so easily? _

But his heart, which had begun to break, suddenly took an abrupt, joyful leap of exhilaration when Justin clarified what he meant. "No, Brian......I won't give up on us, either."


	23. Chapter 23: Where is Home?

"_No, Brian……I won't give up on us, either."_

Those had to be the sweetest words Brian had ever heard. As Justin smiled at him, even though it was merely a shadow of his usual, beaming trademark, Brian was content. He was satisfied for now. He had his partner back in his arms, alive, breathing, warm to his touch. No, he wasn't totally back to normal. But considering less than 24 hours ago he thought his partner was dead and he would never be able to gaze upon him again, much less _hold_ him like this, it was enough for now. They would work on the rest of it – _together._

As Brian returned Justin's smile with one full of love and gratitude, he couldn't help pressing the lithe body back into his arms again, as his hands once more surrounded the other man in a protective cocoon.

Justin hesitated only briefly before he, too, slowly, tentatively, wound his arms around the other's upper back, holding on tightly as he felt the taller man's heart beating wildly. His hands trembled at the intensity his body was feeling; his body was wired up and buzzing with the feelings the brunet was generating. His mind didn't quite recognize what the man meant to him yet, but somehow his _body_ did.

Brian continued to relish the feel of his partner's body, warm, pliant and alive, as his long hands tenderly caressed the slender back; it was a journey so familiar and yet so new. He closed his eyes in sheer ecstasy for several seconds, just savoring the intense emotions flowing through him. As he eventually opened his eyes and peered over at the other man's soft, golden hair, however, he glanced down at the coffee table and observed the subject of Justin's partially-finished painting. He gasped quietly in delight and awe as he instantly recognized himself and his son; his body stiffened slightly enough, though, that Justin noticed the change immediately.

The blond pulled back a little from their embrace, concerned over the difference in the other man's body language. "What?" he asked worriedly, peering up at the other man. But as he stared at him, he noticed the brunet wasn't appearing upset; on the contrary, his face was radiant.

Brian smiled reassuringly, tenderly, at him. "It's nothing," he whispered, his voice choking. He never thought he would ever had the chance to see something new that Justin had painted, let alone something like _this. _"I……I just noticed what you've been painting," he explained, as the two turned their bodies together in unison to look down at the work in progress. "It's….._fantastic_," Brian marveled in awe. "As always." Brian couldn't take his eyes off the candid, casual portrait of him and his son.

Justin flushed at the compliment and the tender looks from the other man. Even though his memory was still cloudy, somehow he instinctively knew that Brian's opinion of his work was important to him.

As Brian absentmindedly rubbed his thumbs lightly in circles on Justin's upper arms, he inexplicably noticed Justin's expression of puzzlement.

"What is it, Justin?" Brian asked the other man pointedly, as he noticed his look of confusion. "Mmmm?" he murmured, as he pressed his cheek against the pale head.

Justin turned his head to look up at the hazel eyes before returning his attention to the painting. "It's……the little boy. I don't understand, Brian. When I paint him, he looks so much like you. But in one of my dreams, we were dancing together – some stupid, inane song, I don't even remember what it _was_ – but he was calling me....._Poppa_." Justin noticed the other man's reaction to that statement – Brian smiled broadly, almost proudly, as he nodded. Justin narrowed his brows as he asked the brunet, "Is he _my_ son?"

Brian smiled ever more widely as he heard the question he asked. "Yes," he answered without hesitation, as Justin's face became even _more_ perplexed. He chuckled a little as noticed he would have to elaborate. "He's my _biological _son. It's kind of a long story. But let's just say that as far as Gus is concerned, he's _YOUR_ son, too. You were _adopted_ by him a long time ago, since the day he was born and you named him – after your teddy bear."

Justin looked almost aghast. "My….._teddy bear?_" _How embarrassing._ As Brian nodded, he thought, _how juvenile I must have appeared then_. "How old was I when he was born?"

Now it was Brian's turn to almost look embarrassed. Taking a deep breath, he answered, "You were seventeen the night we met and Gus was born." As Justin looked at him intently, Brian thought Justin looked like he was almost living through that night again as a bystander, or experiencing it for the first time. In a way, Brian thought, he _was_. He admitted, "It was a very important night for Gus as well as for me." He rolled his lips under in awkwardness; it was still so hard for him to open up about his feelings, even with this man who meant _everything_ to him. "It would turn out to be the night I met the two most important guys in my life," he admitted softly.

Justin felt his body heat rise as the man stared at him with an intense, tender look that made him look away, a little uncomfortable; the brunet was staring at him so intently it was as if he was boring a hole through his body. He wondered how he could have engendered such a strong bond with this man; what he had done to earn such deep love and devotion. He longed to be able to put the pieces of their relationship back together so he would understand. Hopefully now that the man in his dreams was here, in the flesh, he could finally begin to do so.

Brian couldn't help continuing to hold his partner tightly; he still couldn't quite believe that he was _here, _in his arms, very much alive. All those days of dreaming of him, almost _feeling_ him back in his arms and in his bed, had been so fucking painful when he had awakened to discover he wasn't there. The sheets, which had he refused to wash for the past two weeks, had held just enough of Justin's sweet, unique scent that when he had wrapped the man's pillow tightly around his body he could almost imagine in his dreams that he was still there; of course, when he woke up and found the sheets cold instead, it had just made the pain that much more unbearable. Now, he almost was afraid to move away from his lover for fear he would find out he was still sleeping and his dreams were mocking him once again. But as he rested his head back on top of the soft mop of blond hair and deeply breathed in the other man's smell, his heart _sang_; the shampoo's fragrance was a little different than what Justin normally would have used, but it didn't matter; it was still _Justin_.

Both men were so caught up in their unexpected reunion that they did not notice Andrew standing in the open doorway, observing their embrace and Brian's soft, emotion-filled murmurs to his roommate.

As he stared at the dramatic contrast of light and dark, the doctor was feeling a wide range of emotions himself; thankfulness that Justin had finally been able to connect with someone who knew him and his past history so he could help fill in the blanks of his friend's memory, but, yes, if he was totally honest with himself, _resentment_ that this other man had abruptly stepped in and taken control of the situation. Andrew had let Justin move in, had taken care of him, and had been the shoulder he had cried upon for the past two weeks. He had been there to console him when he despaired of ever recovering his memories, and he had been his confidante when he had needed someone to talk about his dreams and divulge his worries to. Now this other man had simply marched in and taken over. Did he really think everything would go back to normal just like that?

Just then, the focus of his resentment turned and noticed him standing in the doorway. As Justin, also, turned to observe what had caught Brian's attention, Andrew saw the briefest glimmer of suspicion and doubt in the elegant man's hazel eyes before he abruptly shut it down, as if he were giving away too much in his expression. Andrew met the other man's eyes unblinking and steadfast; if he thought he was going to be intimated by him, he was _wrong_. His main concern at the moment was the man presently standing between the two of them. _How appropriate_, Andrew thought.

"Andrew?" Justin spoke up uncertainly, as he finally pushed back just enough from Brian that the brunet released him with extreme reluctance; he refused, however, to move far away, standing within touching distance; he was still too afraid to let him out of his sight. He thought perhaps he would never let the man out of his sight _ever again._ As he stood there, he slowly raked his eyes from Justin's head down to his eyes, rememorizing every angle and every plane of the slender body. _God, Justin. How I want to kiss you and make love to you forever. _But Brian knew he would have to go slow, just like after Justin had been hurt after the prom; he would do anything and wait as long as it took for his partner to remember it all. There could be no other option.

Andrew stared back at his friend, at the vulnerable man who had been in emotional turmoil for the past two weeks. He wondered just what and how much the two men had discussed in the 15 minutes he had left them alone together. Now that this man had entered the picture again, what was Justin going to do?

Andrew noticed Brian's competitive glare as he slowly walked toward Justin; it was obvious from the look the man was giving him that he did not trust his motives. Well, he hadn't been here the past two weeks; hadn't been present when he and Justin had become friends, hadn't been around when Justin needed someone to trust. As much as Justin had pictured this man in his dreams, and as much as Justin was constantly depicting the brunet in his drawings, the man was still a relative stranger to him. For all intents and purposes, Justin knew _him_ better right now than he knew this _other_ man.

"Jac……Sorry, I'm still getting used to your _real_ name," Andrew told the other man with chagrin, as Justin smiled in understanding. He started over, observing the taller man still staring at him darkly. "_Justin_," he began again. He smiled at him slightly as he told his friend, "I'm glad you've been able to find someone who is connected to your past."

"Excuse me," Brian quickly interrupted him, growling, "Not just his past….his _present_, too." He continued to shoot daggers at the doctor as Andrew nonetheless continued, nonplussed. "As I said…..I'm happy you've found this man who knew you before. But what are you going to do _now?_ You still need to continue your treatment if you have any hope of restoring your full memory. Right now all you have are bits and pieces. You _know_ that's the best option for you, I'm sure." Justin started to reply to him, not actually knowing what he was going to say, but he was thankfully spared the dilemma. He had been so busy in the present, engrossed in familiarizing himself with Brian again, that he hadn't really given much thought as to his next step.

"Now just a damn minute," Brian retorted, interceding again. "What do you mean, _what is he going to do NOW? _I would think that's pretty fucking obvious, even to YOU….he's going back to Pittsburgh with _me_….where he _lives." _Brian thought to himself, _how DENSE could this man be?_

Andrew wasn't going to back down that easily, however. He pointed out, "I thought you said he lived in _New York City_." Justin looked over at Brian, a question in his eyes. Was that correct? Did he actually live in New York City? But then why did Pittsburgh resonate so much with him? Why had he been drawn to that club to try and regain part of his memory?

Brian glared at the other man, looking at him as if he were the most stupid person in the world. "You know – it really is none of your _fucking_ business. But just to satisfy your insatiable curiosity, Justin _was_ travelling from New York City at the time of the accident. But he was _ON_ his way home – to _Pittsburgh_. That's where he was from, and he was coming home – _for GOOD_. To _ME_." _NOT to you, you arrogant busybody. _Brian crossed his arms, his eyes blazing at the audacity of this other man, this _intruder. _"I think you should just butt the hell out of this, _DOCTOR_," his voice rising as he pronounced the title as if it was leaving an extremely sour taste in his mouth.

"Well, you may have been important in Justin's life _before_, but as his treating doctor and his friend for the past two weeks, I can tell you he doesn't _recall _much of his _life_ _before_," Andrew countered, his voice, too, becoming louder and more indignant. "You can't just usher him back to Pittsburgh, plop him down in the middle of the city, and expect him to remember his life with you or anyone _else_ there. Before YOU showed up, he was about to begin hypnosis treatment to try and improve his memory. You take him back to Pittsburgh and he may have to start all over again, or worse, suffer a setback. Is that what you _want?_ Is that what _Justin_ wants?" he asked the man sharply.

"You don't know _jack shit_ about what's best for _Justin_!" Brian shouted as he started to menacingly walk closer to the other man, about to physically confront him if necessary.

"_STOP IT_!" Neither of the two combatants was prepared for the anguished, angry shout that suddenly erupted from the subject of their heated battle. "Will you both stop shouting at each other like I'm not even in the _fucking room?_ I'm RIGHT here! Right here!" he cried, his water-filled eyes full of despair and anger, as he gestured wildly with his hands; even the hand still held bound in the flexible cast was waving frantically in the air as Justin finally managed to capture the astonished attention of both men.

Justin's body trembled with fury and disbelief. "You're talking like I'm not even _HERE!" _he lectured them. "It's MY life we're talking about here……I'M the one who has to decide what to do. It's MY choice!" He shook his head sadly and bit his lip in frustration as his head started to pound, from his injury or just from extreme tension, he wasn't sure. As he placed both of his hands on either side of his temple, however, the mood of the other two men instantly changed from opposition to great concern. As they both rushed over to try and care for the blond, however, he decisively halted their intention. "Don't come _near_ me right now!" he said, holding out his hands as a roadblock. "I don't want to talk to _either one of you!_ Leave me _alone!"_ He shook his head again before quickly spinning on his heels and rushing into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The two men, alone but unexpectedly bonded in their surprise at Justin's heated reaction, continued to stand facing each other, both silently placing the blame on the other man for the blond's outburst.

Brian's blood pressure was elevated; his palms were sweating and his emotions were in turmoil over this turn of events. The last thing he had wanted to do was make Justin upset, especially in his tenuous, fragile condition. But the man stubbornly standing in front of him was NOT going to prevent him from taking care of his partner; now all he had to do was convince _Justin_ of that.

Sighing in frustration but not about to quit, and certainly NOT about to leave Justin now – they would have to fucking carry him _unconscious _from there before that happened - he growled at the other man, his face contorted in quiet resolution and anger, "Let me be perfectly _clear_, _DOCTOR__ Bradley. _This is my _partner_ we're talking about. The man I have known for over six, long years through good times and some of the most _horrible_ times you couldn't _imagine_. You may think you know best as a medical professional, but I'm telling you – you _don't._ He has a family and friends in Pittsburgh – and a SON in Toronto – who have grieved from the SECOND we thought he was gone forever. And no matter _what_ you think, you are NOT going to interfere with his treatment any further."

He took a breath to try and slow his breathing down, lowering his voice as he continued, "I'll grant you that you have helped him since his accident. I'll even venture to say that he would have been a hell of a lot worse off if you hadn't intervened. But your assignment is _over _now, _Doctor_. It's MY TURN now."

As Brian towered over the other man, his eyes dark with annoyance and contempt, Andrew didn't flinch; he had encountered enough difficult patients and family members in his practice as an emergency room doctor to know how to handle this type of volatile personality. And this was much more personal than just another patient. "No matter what you feel, _Mr. Kinney_, the decision is still _Justin's_. Not mine and NOT yours – as much as you would like it to be." He folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow as he waited for the other man's response.

Brian didn't blink an eye as he continued to stare heatedly at the other man for several seconds; inside, however, he was terrified. Terrified of what Justin's reaction had been to their argument, and terrified that somehow Justin might actually decide to stay with Andrew. Just how much _did _his partner remember about them? He knew Justin had felt some sort of connection with him by the way his smaller body had practically melted into his as they had embraced, and by the way his slender hands had eventually encircled his waist tenderly. And he knew Justin had to remember _something_ or else he wouldn't have dreamed about him and painting that striking likeness of him and Gus. But was it _enough_ for now, until he could get his partner back home and help him to recover?

Finally, he blinked and lowered his gaze somewhat, staring down at his hands that were clasped tightly together. "You're right," he answered evenly, acknowledging the bitter truth of what the man was saying. He raised his head to look the other man straight in the eye as he added, "But in the long run it doesn't matter. Because no matter _what_ he chooses, I'm either taking him back to Pittsburgh or I'm staying _here_. I'm _NOT_ letting him out of my sight from now on. So you might as well get used to it." With that said, Brian turned and walked over to Justin's bedroom door before Andrew could react, knocking lightly on the hollow barrier. "Justin?" he called softly, not hearing any movement from the other side. "We need to talk. Please, Sunshine," he beseeched the other man emotionally, his voice breaking as he pleaded urgently to be heard.

Andrew stood transfixed to his spot as he watched the other man stubbornly trying to get Justin to open the door; as much as he didn't quite trust the man, he had to admit – the brunet was certainly strong-willed and one-sided when it came to Andrew's roommate; nothing short of a bulldozer was going to make this man leave. He was about to walk over and tell the man to leave Justin alone until _he_ was ready to talk to the arrogant man when he watched with surprise as the door slowly opened and Justin appeared, clothes disheveled, his hair tousled and his face still wet with tear tracks from his earlier outburst. He wiped the wetness from his cheeks with his sleeve as the light blue, overly-bright, glistening eyes peered back sadly at Brian.

"Justin," Brian whispered his name forlornly. The last thing he had wanted was to make him upset; he had succeeded miserably at that goal, however. As Justin stood there silently, he reached up and rubbed his thumbs lightly over the pink-tinged, wet cheeks. "I just want to _talk_ to you, Justin. _Privately_," he added, as he briefly glared over at Andrew, who simply returned the hostile look. "Please," Brian whispered to his partner.

Justin sighed softly after a few seconds and nodded, opening the door a little wider as a silent invitation to join him. Brian's heart beat faster hopefully at the other man's willingness to talk; as he followed Justin back into his temporary sleeping quarters, Brian softly but firmly closed the door. This conversation was _NOT _going to include the other man presently waiting back in the living room.

Justin sat down on the bed, looking almost shyly up at Brian, who hesitated, trying to decide whether to join him. He knew he wouldn't actually do it, but just sitting on the bed, _any bed_, with the man he thought he would never ever see again was enough to make his body's reaction ramp up and make him want to fuck his lover senseless. It felt like so long, so _damn_ _long_, since they had made love, since he had tasted those succulent, pouty lips. _God…..this was going to be torture. I've GOT to make you remember what you meant to me – what I meant to YOU._

He finally decided he would have to call upon a universally strong willpower and discipline, as he sat down next to Justin on the double-sized bed. Justin looked over at him, somewhat awkwardly, as Brian reached over and took his undamaged hand in his, loosely holding it protectively. _You have my hand as well as my heart, Sunshine. Always. Forever._ He bit his lip as he thought about what to say, _how_ to say it, to make this man understand.

"Justin," he began softly with a worried sigh, "I know you've started getting treatment here. And…..Bradley has got you set up to start taking hypnosis in hopes of you regaining some of your memory, hopefully _ALL_ of your memory." As Justin nodded slightly to confirm he was correct, Brian gently rubbed his thumb over the other man's hand as he laid out his argument of persuasion. "But all of your friends and family are in Pittsburgh – yes, your _family_," he verified, as Justin stared back at him in shock. "You have a mother and a sister that love you and miss you _terribly_, as well as many of your friends there. They don't have any _idea_ that you're alive – can you imagine their utter _JOY_ when they find out that you ARE? They're not going to care whether you remember everything or not – they're going to be too busy rejoicing over the miracle that you're _ALIVE_!" His hazel eyes, tinged with expression and filled with passionate emotion, flashed as he continued, "I won't go into all the details about what happened – we have all the time in the world for that now – but I can't describe adequately enough for you how fucking important it is that you receive your treatment in Pittsburgh. You have doctors that have treated you there before – who know your medical history – and who are familiar with you. _THEY'RE_ the ones who need to take care of you. _I _NEED to take care of you. Don't you see, Sunshine?" he asked Justin ardently. "Everything that has molded you into who you are, everything that has meant the most to you, every _ONE_ who has cared about you and who has……_loved_ you, is in _Pittsburgh._ THIS isn't your home, Justin. Even _New York_ isn't your home. It was a temporary journey, a destination to be conquered and won over for a while, which you did _fantastically,_ I might add, but when you were in the accident, you were coming_ HOME_ – to Pittsburgh…….to _US. _Don't we still deserve the chance? Don't YOU?" Brian pursed his lips together in an attempt to not let the emotions filter through to his voice, which was threatening to break. _This was SO important, Sunshine. Please understand. Please trust US_.

Justin swallowed the lump in his throat, which had become painfully constricted as he listened to the eloquent, emotion-filled words coming from the man who was looking at him with eyes so full of worry but also unabashed love. This man, who despite knowing that he wasn't able to return the same degree of devotion as he was showing to _him_, was still striving urgently, passionately, to persuade him to return with him to Pittsburgh. _Would he ever be able to look at Brian the same way that he was looking at HIM right now?_ This man – this beautiful, wounded man – still _loved_ him. Still believed in the two of them, despite Justin's condition. Did he owe him any less of a chance to return those same feelings? He _wanted _to return the same feeling of adoration he saw in those hazel eyes. He could _trust_ this man – despite the lack of memories, he knew he could – he could _feel _it.

"What do you say, Justin?" Brian prodded him gently, holding his breath as what seemed like an interminable length of time passed and Justin still hadn't spoken to him. He took the blond's other, casted hand in his as Justin finally looked up to meet his eyes.

"Yes……., he heard Justin whisper at last. "I'll go back with you."


	24. Chapter 24: Filling in the Gaps

Brian drummed his fingers on the roof of the rental car impatiently as he stood waiting tensely for his partner. He _hated_ this waiting. And he _hated_ the reason for WHY he was having to wait. Because before Justin would leave with him, he had asked to speak with Andrew – _alone_. Why, he didn't know. And it was fucking _killing_ him. Was Justin still having second thoughts about leaving? Or was he having second thoughts about leaving with _him?_ Just what type of relationship had the two men had for the past two weeks? Was it strictly friendly, or had there been more to it?

Brian's face darkened at the thought that this other man could have been taking advantage of Justin's vulnerability. The thought of _any_ other man touching or kissing his partner made his skin crawl. He tried not to think of the irony of the situation; after all, it wouldn't have been too long ago that he would have fucked anything on two legs, and he wouldn't have cared if Justin was in the room to observe it or not. Now…..well, how things had changed, he thought ruefully. He decided he would give Justin five more minutes, and then he would barge in there and _drag_ the blond out if he had to. Fuming as he stood rigidly, he turned and slammed his back against the side of the car as he anxiously waited. _Five more minutes._

* * *

The two men stood facing each other rather awkwardly; after two weeks of living in the same apartment together, after sharing meals (thankfully the two of them hadn't tried to _fix _any more food together, however), and persevering through Justin's nightmares and disappointments, it was ironic they were now having trouble talking to each other.

Finally, Andrew broke the ice by smiling at the blond wistfully. "I'm not sure what to say, Justin," he began hesitantly. "It seems like so much has happened just in the last few hours compared to the past couple of weeks." He stared with regret at the soft blue eyes of the man he had come to be captivated by. "I _am_ glad you've discovered who you are, your name and all," he explained sincerely. "And I know you're just starting on your journey to rediscover your past – your friends and your family. I'm sure you realize that's going to take some time – that nothing's guaranteed."

Justin nodded seriously. "I know, Andrew. But I have to _try_. At least now I have a starting point. I'm sure Brian will help me." He noticed Andrew's face wince as he mentioned the other man's name. He knew Andrew and Brian did not see eye to eye when it came to what was best for him. And in a way he was still unsure himself as to whether he _WAS_ doing the right thing by returning with Brian. While he had no doubt that Brian cared deeply for him, in a way Andrew was right – truthfully, he _DID_ feel more comfortable being around him right now. Brian had certainly occupied his dreams and hopes over the last couple of weeks, but he still had to remap his connections with him. Right now, he actually felt more at ease with Andrew. But he also knew that he owed Brian the chance for the two of them to restore their relationship. He knew enough from his dreams of him to know that the two of them had shared a deep love, a unique bond of trust and respect, and he yearned to remember it…..ALL of it. Only by returning with Brian to Pittsburgh would he ever have the chance to regain that. He only hoped he didn't wind up disappointing Brian, or it would almost be like the man was experiencing his loss all over again.

He sighed softly; it was all so damn complicated. He heard his friend call out his name softly and looked up from his internal battle to peer back at him.

Andrew reached his hand over and gently lifted the other man's chin to make him look at him; he wanted a straight answer from his friend. "Justin? Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked his roommate pointedly. "You're not just agreeing to go with this man out of some sense of responsibility or guilt, are you? You _know_ you have nothing to feel guilty about – it wasn't your fault you were in that accident or lost your memories. Surely you don't blame yourself," he stated with conviction. He hated like hell to see Justin leave, but he wanted his friend to do what would make him happy. He knew, however, that if Justin _did_ leave, it definitely would leave _one_ of them unhappy.

Justin stared at him; this man had been so good to him over the past two weeks; he didn't know what he would have done without his help. But it was _time_. Time to rediscover himself. As he stared back at Andrew, who finally released his hold on his chin, Justin nodded at him. "I know it wasn't my fault, Andrew," he reassured the other man. "The accident _or_ losing my memory. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I feel bad about what Brian has lost, too. I mean, can you imagine what it must have felt like for him to think I was _dead?_" Justin turned away from his friend and walked slowly toward the window. Peering down at the street, he noticed the brunet fidgeting impatiently as he leaned against the car, his arms crossed over his chest in barely controlled motion. Justin continued watching him as he saw him sigh and hug his body with nervous energy.

Turning back toward Andrew, he took a deep breath and let it out; he knew what he had to do; what he owed the other man. He owed it to him to try – for now that was the best he could promise either of them.

"Justin," Andrew pressed him as he continued to stare at him intently. "I'm sure it's been difficult for Kinney. I'm not trying to downplay that, really I'm not. But don't let that be the only factor that determines what you decide to do. Your mental stability is at stake; you're in a very tricky situation here. I'm afraid that you might be adversely affected if your treatment isn't closely monitored by the proper professionals. In the end, that's what is most important." He watched as the other man walked toward the coffee table and picked up the almost-completed portrait of Brian and Gus; Justin had explained why the little boy had been calling him _Poppa_ in his dreams, and he bit down a pang of jealousy over the apparent close relationship his friend had with Kinney's biological son, _and_ with the boy's father.

Justin studied the casual portrait of Brian and his son; both of them apparently such critical parts of his previous life; after all, he had dreamed about, sketched and painted them constantly over the past two weeks. "I know you bought me the canvasses and art supplies, Andrew," he began somewhat tentatively; he knew how tense things were between Andrew and Brian, "but if it's okay with you, I'd like to take this with me. I think Brian would like to have it," he explained softly.

"Of course," Andrew agreed, more readily than Justin would have expected. Andrew knew, though, that _he_ certainly didn't want a constant reminder around of what he was about to lose – or who he had lost him _to_, either. "And take the sketchbook, too. Maybe it will help you with your treatment." He bit his lip as he painfully realized Justin had apparently made up his mind; he was really going to leave with the other man. And then there would be no material reminders of him, or that he had even _been_ here. Just his _own _memories.

As he propped the portrait up against the couch, Justin walked toward the other man and picked up the sketchbook lying nearby. He methodically leafed through the pages until he found a particular sketch; carefully tearing it out, he placed the book down by the painting and approached Andrew. "Here," he said, holding out the page to his friend. "I want you to have this."

As he took the proffered page, he curiously peered down at the sketch Justin had drawn. Was he leaving him a sketch of himself to remember him by? If he was, Andrew wouldn't need anything for _that_; the blond would forever be ingrained in his mind - and heart. Instead, as he looked at it, he realized it depicted the two of them in Andrew's kitchen, the doctor holding a mixing beater in his hand as globs of batter splattered the nearby walls with goo. Justin, meanwhile, was holding the bowl, looking on in horror.

"Justin!" Andrew protested, trying to unsuccessfully hold back a smile. "I can't believe you drew this! You little shit - You caught in me a moment of weakness and capitalized on it, didn't you?"

Justin laughed. "Guilty as charged, doctor. It was too good a moment to pass up without having it immortalized. I thought it might be wise to record the moment for posterity in case you ever attempt such a foolish activity again. It might save someone else from the same hideous predicament," he teased him as both men laughed now.

Andrew shook his head and looked at his friend warmly. "I'm going to _miss_ you, Justin Taylor," he admitted wistfully as a few tears unexpectedly arose in his eyes.

"I'm going to miss you, too, Andrew," Justin softly assured him. The two men looked at each other for a few seconds before Andrew pulled the other man into a hug, wrapping his arms around the blond's back firmly; it felt so good to hold him. It was so ironic, then, that he was hugging him now only as they were saying their goodbyes.

Justin returned Andrew's hug rather awkwardly for a few brief seconds before he gently pushed back in a silent request for release. As the doctor reluctantly let him go, he smiled slightly at the other man and leaned down to pick up the sketchpad and painting.

As Justin turned to leave, Andrew couldn't resist one more pressing question. "Will I ever see you again, Justin?" He held his breath anxiously as he waited for the other man's response. He didn't want Justin to drop out of his life forever; he still cared for this beautiful but fragile soul.

Justin's eyes were soft and his smile wistful as he answered truthfully, "I don't know. Maybe. I'm so grateful for what you've done, Andrew. More than you'll ever know. It's kind of ironic, but I need to concentrate on my past right now and hopefully restore my memories - so I can look to the future." He grimaced somewhat as he added, "I really don't think Brian's going to be too amenable to us maintaining our relationship for the time being; I'm sure you can understand the reason why."

Andrew knew _exactly_ the reason why; the man did not want anyone to come between him and Justin. If _he_ were Kinney, he would probably feel the same way; this man was worth fighting for. So as much as he absolutely detested it, he would abide by his friend's wishes – for _now_. Out loud, he nodded, saying, "I understand, Justin. But promise me if you ever need anything – _anything at all – _you will call me, okay? Night or day."

As Justin reached to turn the doorknob to leave, he turned one last time to look at his friend. "I promise," he confirmed solemnly. "Take care of yourself, Andrew. And tell Michelle thanks for me, too, okay?"

Andrew nodded as a lump suddenly appeared in his throat. He softly called out, "Good Luck, Justin," just as the other man opened the door and quietly closed it behind him.

* * *

Brian's patience had worn out; he was done waiting for Justin. _Your time monopolizing my partner is over, Bradley. _Uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off from the car, he began to stomp back toward the apartment's main entrance door just as he heard it opening. He rushed up, relieved, as he saw Justin struggling with the door while trying to balance his canvas and sketchbook in his good arm.

"Let me help you, Justin," the brunet urged him, as the blond gratefully accepted the assistance. Brian reached over and took the canvas from the other man, looking at him questioningly.

"I….I thought you might want to have it," he explained softly, as he handed it to the brunet.

Brian smiled at him, delight lighting up his eyes as he fondly looked at his son perched next to him on the couch's arm. He had been mesmerized by the portrait as soon as he had seen it upstairs but did not want to make demands of his partner regarding its possession. Now, the fact that Justin had thought to bring it with them, and perhaps more importantly, _NOT_ leave it with his now _former_ roommate instead, made him both relieved and pleased.

"Thank you," he whispered softly. "I would." He watched closely as Justin nodded somewhat shyly and walked toward the car to get into the passenger seat; even now, it was almost like he was sleepwalking in a dream as he looked over to see the partner that he had thought was dead sitting very much alive in the vehicle, nervously waiting for him to join him.

Licking his lips a little awkwardly, he opened the trunk and carefully lay the painting face up before closing the storage area. He took a calming breath before he walked back up to open the driver's side door and get in.

As he looked over at Justin, the miracle of their situation once again hit him. Except for the flexible wrist cast, the blond looked just as he did the last time Brian had seen him, what? It must have been almost three months ago now – when he had taken a short weekend trip up to New York City to see him. A weekend that was over way too soon, even though they had practically spent the entire time in bed. But that was how it normally seemed to go; every weekend they had spent together was not _nearly _enough time. And just when his partner had finally decided to fulfill one of Brian's most desperate dreams – to come home for _good_ – that awful accident had occurred. And then the past two weeks, when he had been caught in a twilight of torment and loss, when if it hadn't been for Gus, he didn't think he could go on. And now look. Here he was staring at a living, breathing _Justin_. His heart beat faster as he continued to look intently at someone he never thought he would be able to see ever again. Now, maybe, just maybe, they could start to erase the past two weeks and begin their life anew again.

"Brian?" he heard the focus of his daydreaming speak softly; he realized with a start that he was still staring over at the other man as he noticed him peering back at him curiously.

Brian smiled a little bashfully, having been caught up in his blessings. "Ready to go?" he asked the blond softly, as he couldn't resist reaching over and gently capturing a more slender, pale hand in his; thankfully, Justin didn't resist his need to just _touch_ him. In fact, his partner actually curled his slender hand into his, the softness and warmth still there as it was before. He longed to kiss and hold Justin in his arms again, but for now, it was enough; the last thing he wanted to do was scare his fragile partner. He knew he had to take things slow. But it was going to be _damn_ hard doing so.

Justin felt his breath quicken a little and his face warm as he felt the other man's thumb tenderly caressing his hand. While not exactly a familiar feeling for him, at the same time he did not find it unpleasant. In fact, it was inexplicably comforting and soothing somehow. He nodded at the other man, indicating he was ready to leave.

As Brian smiled reassuringly and slowly pulled out into traffic, another man watched from his second floor apartment until they were out of sight. _Goodbye, Justin_, Andrew thought sorrowfully, as he finally turned from the window, his shoulders drooping with his loss.

* * *

_Pennsylvania Turnpike_

Brian glanced over at Justin, who had been quietly gazing out of the passenger window for the past 15 minutes. Any other time the blond would have been incessantly rattling on about anything and everything from his latest art gallery showing to some New York sightseeing adventure to his latest episode with Gus or a new food he had discovered. Brian always used to good naturedly grouse about Justin never coming up for breath in between sentences, but secretly he had always enjoyed Justin's ebullient enthusiasm and love for life. How he wished the man was like that _now_. Since they had gotten on the turnpike, Justin had fallen quiet, only occasionally meeting Brian's gaze with an awkward, shy smile. _Oh, Sunshine…..When did it become so difficult for the two of us to communicate?_

He squeezed his hand on Justin's thigh where he had laid it shortly after they had started their drive back home; he found he just couldn't help himself. He _had_ to touch him constantly, as if he were seeking reassurance that this was not a dream, that Justin was _really here_ with him at last, after two weeks of unfathomable grief and sadness. He tried hard to concentrate on that miraculous fact as he struggled to get his partner to open up to him.

After a brief pause, he was finally rewarded with another shy smile from his partner as he turned away from the window to look at him, the blue eyes soft and probing. Trying hard to be patient with him, Brian asked, "I hope you don't mind driving back to Pittsburgh rather than flying. It would have been a lot quicker to fly. But I thought it would give us time to talk…..to reconnect." _Come on, Sunshine……Help me here._ _Say something……ANYTHING._ At the moment, Brian didn't really care _what_ Justin said – he just savored the sound of his voice. Until earlier today, he never thought he would ever hear it again.

Just then, he heard his lover sigh softly before he heard that wonderful sound again, just like music to his ears. "I'm sorry, Brian," the blond uttered contritely.

Brian frowned at him, puzzled. That wasn't exactly the response he had been expecting. "What in the world are you _sorry_ for?" he asked him gently, taking his eyes off the road briefly to look at the younger man. He could tell Justin was upset about something– the frustration and confusion was written all over his face – but if he wouldn't open up to him, how would Brian know what was wrong? He lightly rubbed circles on the other man's leg comfortingly in a silent urge for him to continue.

Justin bit his lip nervously. "I'm sorry I'm not better company. I should be asking you a million questions – I _DO _have a million of them – but I don't even know where to _start_. Normally in a conversation, you have a beginning to start with. I don't even have _that_." He closed his eyes shut tightly, as if he were in pain. Brian decided he definitely _was_ in pain, only it wasn't necessarily the physical kind that was of the most concern to him at the moment.

He slowly pulled his rental car over onto the shoulder and stopped it so he could devote all of his attention to his lover. "Justin," he began gently, turning to look at him intently. "For fuck's sake, you've been through a terrible ordeal. Your head was severely injured and your body was banged up. Not to mention the little boxing match your hand got into at my club's front door," he teased him lightly, receiving a slight smile of embarrassment in response. "No one is going to expect you to just pick up where you left off. Trust me, Sunshine – everyone's going to be so fucking thrilled that you're alive at all that they aren't going to _care_ if you're not fully recovered yet. And all of them will help you to find your way back." _Please – let him find that path for both of us._

Brian noticed the blond break out into a _real_ smile this time; not quite the radiant, trademark smile that earned him his nickname, but the best one Brian had seen so far today. "What?" he asked him, curious to know what he had said to get such a treasured response from the other man. Whatever he did, or whatever he said to merit that look, he fervently wanted to repeat it.

"It's…..that _name,_" he offered by way of explanation.

"Name?" Brian asked him, puzzled. He shook his head slightly to indicate he didn't understand.

Justin looked down in his lap, embarrassed. "_Sunshine_," he whispered. "I…..I heard you call me that in one of my dreams," he added, as he looked back over at the brunet. "I thought maybe it was just something I had invented while I was asleep. It seemed like such a silly name to call your boyfriend, or _any_ man for that matter," he confided to the other man sheepishly. "I thought I had just imagined you saying it." Now Justin knew he hadn't. At least that was one more, albeit slight assurance, that he _was_ remembering some things, at least in his subconscious thoughts.

Brian smirked. "No, _Sunshine_, you didn't," he assured him, emphasizing the nickname as Justin smiled again. Brian decided he was definitely going to work on keeping that smile on his partner's beautiful face. "It belongs to you, all right. In fact, you're called that to your face enough by now that no one really blinks an eye at it anymore."

Justin shook his head in amusement. "But how in the _world_ did I ever get a nickname like _THAT_?" he inquired curiously. He looked over at the elegant, handsome man peering at him with a twinkle in his eyes. "Somehow you don't look like the type of man who gives his boyfriend a cutesy pet name."

Brian laughed out loud as Justin just looked at him mystified; even though they faced a long road ahead, it felt so good to be able to laugh again and to be laughing with HIM again. "You got that right, _Mr. Taylor_," he assured him. "I didn't name you. That was someone else. Someone without a demure bone in her body. And someone who isn't afraid to speak her mind. She gave you the nickname and it stuck."

Before Justin had a chance to ask, Brian revealed, "It's because of your smile." Somewhat embarrassed, he explained, "When you smile – _really _smile – it lights up a fucking ROOM." _What I wouldn't give to see one of those right now._ "I hope I can see one of those again soon," he confided to him, smiling wistfully, his eyes probing into the other man's, heartfelt and just a little lonely. _I miss you, Justin. I miss US._

Vowing not to let their conversation dissolve into something morose, however, he tried to turn the mood back toward a happier angle. "I would suggest you wait a little while before you're re-introduced to the woman who gave you your chipper little moniker, however," he cautioned the other man. "Remember how I said everyone will be so fucking thrilled to find out that you're alive? Well, that doesn't begin to describe what _Debbie's_ reaction will be – she will be downright _ballistic_ with joy. She only has two volumes normally – loud and brassy, and loud and brassy. When it comes to _you,_ though –_– _well, let's just say you're a _special_ case. She's pretty much adopted you like a second mother." Thinking about what Debbie's reaction will be to Justin's miraculous escape from death, he decided, _yeah, better prepare THAT woman first. For ALL our sakes._

Brian hoped that perhaps by talking about Debbie, who was certainly one of Justin's more flamboyant, unforgettable parts of his life, his partner would display at least a flicker of recognition in his eyes; to Brian's disappointment, however, all he appeared to receive in response was a pensive, curious stare in return. Sighing internally so as not to upset Justin, he smiled reassuringly at him. "Listen – we've got at least three hours in the car to talk. I'm by no means an expert when it comes to the brain – especially how _your _brain works."

Justin smirked at him, and for a second – just a second – Brian saw the old, familiar version there. "But if you want – I can start to fill in some of the gaps for you." Brian wasn't sure if that was the best response to Justin's condition. But he could only go by his gut, and if it would make Justin less apprehensive and more at ease, he was more than willing to regale the man with stories and information until they got back into Pittsburgh. He silently pleaded with his partner to let him help him; help _both_ of them.

Justin stared back at this man who was so crucial to his recovery. He felt confident that Brian could fill in the _objective_ details – the facts and figures – easily. But the part that Justin _really_ wanted back – his feelings toward him and the love he felt they must have had, and the love that this intriguing man _still_ felt for him – that was going to take something more. Perhaps another miracle, just like his surviving the accident in the first place. But this was a start. He had already been given one miracle – what was one _more? _

"So," Justin replied softly. "Tell me more about the night we met."


	25. Chapter 25:Sow with Tears, Reap with Joy

Justin sat in silence as they drove, listening raptly to Brian as he regaled him with tales of their exploits around Liberty Avenue. He had mainly sat there mutely while Brian did most of the talking as he attempted to help fill in the gaps in Justin's memory. Actually, except for the events _after_ the accident, and what few bits and pieces Justin recalled in his dreams, most of his past remained a total blank to him. He still felt like a spectator or a moviegoer, watching someone else's past playing out. Except it wasn't some stranger's past – it was _his_.

"Did I _really_ put up all those posters against the police chief?" he asked Brian, his eyes wide as saucers as his partner told him about Stockwell's eventual, unsuccessful campaign for mayor, as well as his involvement with covering up his partner's role in Jason Kemp's unfortunate death.

"You sure did," Brian confirmed proudly, his pride in the other man obvious by the tone of his voice; only Justin had had the nerve to so blatantly exhibit his great dislike for Brian's client. He had also forced Brian to examine his own feelings and realize it was time for him to stand up for what was right and not back down. Yes, it had resulted in Brian losing his job ultimately, but it had also been the driving force behind Kinnetik, which continued even now to be a tremendous success. "You really created a big, fat fucking brouhaha," he told him, eyes twinkling and his lips curling under in amusement. "But that was the start, Justin. The start of his eventual downfall." He peered over at his partner, so relatively young in a lot of ways but so mature in many others. "You always stand on your principles, Sunshine, no matter what the consequences are. I've always admired that about you," he admitted softly, earning a look of surprise from the other man. "Don't look so shocked…..You've always known that. You just never made a big deal of it, that's all," he chided him.

"No, Brian," Justin answered quietly as he glanced over at him, his eyes suddenly tearing up. "You mean I _used_ to know that. Before the accident." He sighed, the sorrow over his loss almost palpable. So many memories, so many feelings…..seemingly gone in an instant. And now this man – this beautiful, graceful, and giving man – was looking at him with his eyes full of hope and love. Hope that the Justin he used to know would somehow find his way back to him. Would his wish simply turn out to be a desperate, futile cry? The blond abruptly turned away to gaze out the window, too ashamed to look at those hazel eyes staring back at him tenderly. _You don't deserve this, Brian. You don't deserve someone who is so broken, who may NEVER be whole again. The person you love – or it is loved? – may never appear again._

"Justin?" A soft, concerned whisper floated inside the car as Justin took a shallow, soft breath in through his lips, trying concertedly not to let the other man know how upset he presently was. Brian had enough going on right now without the added burden of his lover's growing worry that he may never regain his memories of their relationship.

He heard the other man sigh. "Talk to me, Justin," he was urged. "Look at me," was the heartfelt plea, as Justin felt the long fingers squeezing his thigh in an attempt to get his attention again. Swallowing the sorrow in his throat, he quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and let out an inadvertent sniffle. Damn it – he did not want Brian any more concerned than he already was. Couldn't he do _anything_ right?

Then he felt the warm hand leave his upper leg to caress his slightly damp cheek lightly, tenderly. Afraid to look back at him, but too affected by the gentle touch not to, Justin finally turned his head to look over at the creased and troubled face of his partner. "Tell me what's going through your mind, Sunshine," he murmured huskily as he held the blond's chin in his hand; Brian wanted desperately to pull the car over and comfort Justin, hold him tightly in his arms and never let him go until he knew just how much he still loved him, had never _stopped _loving him, even when he thought he was gone forever. But that fervent desire was tempered by his wish to get his partner back where he belonged – back in Pittsburgh with his friends and family. He only hoped that once they _were_ back in familiar surroundings, somehow it would help Justin to remember his part in all of it.

So with a heavy heart, Brian returned his hand to Justin's leg and kept driving, peering over frequently to look at the other man and hoping he would open up to him. Finally after several seconds, he heard a soft whisper of confession. "I'm _afraid_, Brian."

"Afraid?" he urged gently. "What are you afraid of?" Just the thought of this strong, independent but vulnerable man being afraid of something _else_ in addition to what he had already gone through in his relatively short life broke his heart.

Taking a ragged breath and letting it out, Justin clarified, "I'm afraid of losing everything I remembered. I'm afraid of having to start all over again. I don't _WANT_ to start over again, Brian." Squaring his shoulders, he finally admitted his deepest fear. "I'm afraid I won't ever remember what we meant to each other. I don't want to disappoint you. If I don't remember, it will be like you've lost me all over again." Biting his lip fretfully, he asked the other man pointedly, "Is it _worth _it, Brian? Is it worth the terrible pain that might result?"

That was it; Brian couldn't stand it any longer. Fuck Pittsburgh and their friends; right now, there were more _important_ matters to take care of. Seeing a rest stop coming up, he veered the rental car toward the exit ramp, receiving a puzzled look from his passenger. Smiling a little to try and reassure him that everything was all right, he slowed the vehicle and stopped in one of the parking spaces.

As Brian opened the door and walked around the car, Justin remained seated, wondering what in the world was going on. He looked up as Brian opened his door and held out his hand to him. "Let's take a walk," he asked softly, a tender smile on his face. _Come on, Sunshine. I'm not going anywhere until you come WITH me. You're not getting rid of me THAT easily._ He continued to stand there stubbornly until finally he saw the blond reach around and unlatch his seatbelt. Brian's heart leapt as he saw a pale, slender hand reach out and grasp his own softly, tentatively. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he noticed the almost shy, nervous expression on his partner's face. The blue eyes gazed at him uncertainly as he let the brunet gently pull him out of the car, never letting go of his hand.

The smaller hand was as soft and warm as Brian had remembered it; he relished the familiar feel as Justin's fingers almost automatically curved around his by instinct. As he glanced over at Justin, he couldn't help thinking, _do you remember, too, Sunshine? Do you remember ANY of this?_ He bit down his disappointment that there wasn't more of an obvious response from his partner as the two continued to walk hand-in-hand away from the relatively small crowd at the tourist information building. Brian had no interest in interacting with anyone else, or speaking to anybody except the man whose hand he was currently holding.

They walked silently for several yards until Brian led them over to a lone picnic table sitting on an elevated hilltop overlooking a heavily-wooded valley below; the trees had finally all regained their leaves after a damp, brown-looking winter and the vibrant green of the scenery helped, however minutely, to quench his spirit and his hope.

Motioning for Justin to join him on the bench, they sat side-by-side quietly as Brian continued to hold his hand, lightly drawing circles over the blond's knuckles absentmindedly. He sighed silently before finally beginning to answer the question that Justin had asked several minutes before, startling his partner slightly at the sound of his voice.

"You asked me in the car whether it was worth it……whether it was worth maybe the pain that it might cause. I'd like to try and answer that." Justin looked over at him curiously, noticing how serious the other man's expression was. Was this heartfelt orating typical for Brian? He had no way of knowing. But he found himself entranced by the solemn expression on the other man's face.

"You….can't really know this. Not now. Not the way you are presently. But I was never good at expressing myself – at least to the people who needed to hear it the most." He grimaced as he added, "That was no doubt thanks to my wonderful parents. I told you about Michael – my best friend. He and I grew up together and he and Debbie probably saved my fucking sanity by taking me in and watching over me when my old man tried to beat the shit out of me and my mother just didn't care." He picked up a stray leaf that had floated down onto the table and absently twirled it as he continued, Justin's eyes never leaving him. "I grew up thinking that if you ever let anyone know how you really felt, you were seen as weak, dependent. After the way my father treated me – his own flesh and blood – I vowed that I would never let anyone inside to see the real me. To know how I really felt. I thought if I didn't tell them, I couldn't get hurt."

He looked up to peer into the soft blue eyes he knew so well. His own eyes were shining now with unshed tears as he softly continued. "I kept feeling that way," he said, biting his lower lip briefly to calm himself; his heart was beating rapidly as his partner kept staring at him so intently. "I felt that way…until I met _you_. You were without a doubt the most stubborn, obstinate, persistent and annoying little _twat_ I had ever met," he disclosed truthfully, actually receiving a soft, brief and somewhat affronted snort from the other man. "At the time we met, I was _Brian Kinney, King of his Castle, _and if you had the privilege of meeting me, and getting _fucked_ by me, you were damn lucky." As Justin's eyebrows rose at his boast, he admitted, "That's how I felt. I was definitely the quintessential _fuck-'em and leave-em _kind of guy. Maximum pleasure, minimum bullshit was my motto," he added, hoping that comment would somehow register with the other man, but silently disappointed that it evidently did not. "And at first, you were just going to be another notch in my belt of conquests," he admitted, now somewhat ashamed to think that he could have _ever_ thought that way about this unique, wonderful person now staring back at him.

"I…..I think maybe in a weird sort of way, you scared the fucking shit out of me," he confessed. "You just wouldn't take no for an answer – when I tried to push you away, you just kept taking it. In fact, it seemed the harder I pushed, the harder you pushed _back_. You may have been young…..uh, at least younger than _me_," he explained, not wanting to sound like he was older than dirt himself. "But you sure were a determined little fucker," he told the other man, not quite able to hide the affection and respect in his voice.

"And after a while," he said softly. "I…..I forgot why I was trying so hard to push you away. You became friends with the group I hung out with – Debbie gave you that inane _Sesame Street _nickname to seal the deal – and all of a sudden you were firmly entrenched with the rest of the gang." He looked down, almost embarrassed to admit his innermost feelings even now. "And you were firmly entrenched in my heart, too…..but I couldn't let you know that. Not then, at least."

When Brian stopped to catch his breath – he hadn't noticed he had practically been holding it as he spoke to his lover about their relationship – Justin took the opportunity to ask him softly, "When _did _you?" As Brian looked at him confused, he explained, "When did you tell me….how you felt?"

Brian smiled at the memory. "Well, I guess it's ironic after the role models I had with my mother the ice queen and my for-shit abusive father that I would wind up being more of the feely-touchy type when it came to expressing how I felt….about you, I mean," he replied. "But that's what happened. Somehow it was easier to show you how I felt instead of _telling _you. That is….until the _bombing_." He closed his eyes as a flash of pain appeared; even now after almost two years the hurt was still fresh and raw when he revisited that night when he almost lost the man he loved so deeply; the man he thought he HAD lost two weeks ago but was now sitting next to him, his warm leg brushing up against his and the achingly familiar scent of his body so comforting.

"Brian?" Justin whispered, concerned, squeezing the other man's fingers in a silent reassurance that he was right there with him – _alive_. Brian nodded and opened his eyes to drink in the wondrous sight once again. He would never get tired of looking at him – _never_. "The bombing at Babylon," Justin said - it was a statement, though, not a question.

Brian nodded. "Yes," he breathed out a ragged response as his body actually shuddered slightly at the recollection. "I was worried about Michael – he was seriously hurt that night. But I was totally frantic with worry that _you _had been hurt – or worse." He huffed out a breath to release some of the tension before continuing. "That was the night…..when I held you in my arms, and you were warm and alive and unhurt ….that was the first night I actually _told_ you that I loved you."

Justin looked at him sadly but fondly, touched by this man's heartfelt confession. The depth of his love for him was almost frightening; it brought him back to his initial worry that he had expressed in the car. "Brian….." he began anew.

"No, Justin," Brian answered him resolutely. "Let me finish….._please_. You asked me if it was worth it…worth the possible pain that might happen if you can never remember what we had." Justin nodded, lines of worry creasing his forehead in response. "Well, if you knew how we had felt – shit, how I _still_ feel and will _always _feel – you wouldn't have to ask that. Because you would know that hell, yes, it's _worth _it! For a chance to get back what we had –God, yes!"

Justin continued to look at him with guilt and regret written all over his face. Brian shook his head; what could he say to make him understand? Understand that he _wanted_ to do this, that he HAD to do this?

Seemingly off the subject, he disclosed to his lover, "I had to take one of those totally unrelated, liberal arts courses in college for my major. It was some type of poetry class, for fuck's sake!" he growled, receiving a look of sympathy from the other man. "I thought I would absolutely, positively HATE it! But you know – and if you ever admit this to anyone that I said this, I will have to tear your balls off – I actually _liked _it. I liked the order of the stanzas, the creative ways in which the different poets chose to express themselves. I would never be caught dead in a million years reciting poetry – I don't care _how _fucking much you were responsible for actually getting me to reveal my feelings out loud," he advised the other man, who smiled back at him slightly.

"But if it helps," he revealed, "I _do_ remember part of a poem that went something like, "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." Looking over at his partner somewhat sheepishly in awkard embarrassment, he nevetheless plunged ahead. "Well, Sunshine, after the tears I've shed in the last two weeks, we should certainly be in for a whole _LOT_ of joy. And I intend to collect it with _YOU_. Only _you_. Are you willing to reap it with me?" _God, _Brian suddenly thought, _I sound like a fucking LESBIAN here._

But as he stood up and tenderly pulled the other man to his feet, the look of happiness on the other man's face was worth every ounce of silly, uncomfortable sentimentality, because Justin leaned in to gently fold him into a heartstopping, long-awaited embrace before he whispered back to him, "Yes – I'm willing."


	26. Chapter 26:  Back in the Pitts at Last

Since their talk at the rest stop, Brian wouldn't exactly say their conversation in the car had become a lot more animated. But the atmosphere in the car seemed to be more _comfortable_, and at least he felt more confident that Justin finally knew just how much he meant to him, and how determined he was to stick by him while he struggled to regain his memory of their past together. Hell, Brian really didn't have any choice; he wasn't about to let Justin out of his sight now that he knew he was here, alive, and back with _him_.

His hand lightly rested once again on the blond's leg; he knew it was crazy, but he just couldn't help it. He thought back about the morning after Justin had unexpectedly won the King of Babylon contest. He had run off with that Shawn person, the trick that Brian himself had been trying to pick up for hours that night. He knew Justin had done it just to teach him a lesson, and while he had never really told Justin, his partner had done just _that_. Because for all the nonchalant airs he had put on that morning in front of the other guys, the truth was that he had been jealous as hell that the man had been more enamored of Justin than he had been of _him_. And the thought of _HIS_….just what _would_ he have called Justin back then – protégé? No, that sounded way too clinical. He wasn't a boyfriend back then, or certainly not his partner – not yet, anyway. Lover maybe? Perhaps. Definitely _not _his stalker, as Brian had denounced him as one day (the word made him wince now). The thought of his _lover_, then, picking up another man and fucking him all night long had driven him crazy while all sorts of things ran through his fertile mind. He recalled that Justin had said he had to end things that night when the man had become too _clingy_. Well, Mr. Taylor, meet _Clingy Man No. 2_. Except you're NOT getting rid of THIS one. Uh, uh…..

He glanced over quickly at his partner. At least Justin didn't seem bothered by the fact that Brian was constantly having to be physically connected to him somehow; currently he was looking down at his lap, his slender hands clasped together. Brian might have mistakenly thought the blond was sleeping if not for the sound of his soft, shallow breathing and the wringing motion he was currently engaging in. No doubt it was a sign of the turmoil warring inside him at the moment; Justin was obviously still extremely frustrated that his memory was not returning so quickly. He had told him about the various dreams he had had over the past two weeks, so no doubt _somewhere_ in his mind he was remembering bits and pieces of several events, and over a fairly wide time range. Surely that was a hopeful sign. It just wasn't happening quickly enough as far as Justin was concerned. Or _himself_, either.

Brian was roused by his thoughts just then as he heard Justin calling his name softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "What is it, Sunshine?" he asked him, taking his eyes off the road briefly to return the blond's gaze and smile reassuringly. He would _never _get tired of hearing the other man utter his name – right now it was literally music to his ears.

"I was thinking….." Brian thought his partner actually sounded nervous, as well as a little embarrassed when he heard the halting lilt of his voice. "When we get to Pittsburgh, where am I going to _stay_? I mean, you told me about my mom and sister and all. Is that where you're taking me?"

Brian bit back his disappointment at the idea; he had actually already thought of that, but was dreading the subject. He was torn about what the right answer was. On the one hand, he knew how badly Justin's mom and sister needed to know that he was _alive_. Not exactly completely whole – not yet, anyway – but _alive_. And he knew how much his friends would certainly want to see him as well. But he also knew he couldn't bear to part with him. Call it lesbionic – he didn't _care_. Was it selfish of him to ask that Justin stay with him at the loft? Yes, of course it was – but _so be it_. Now if he could just get Justin to agree to it – that was what he was most afraid of, wasn't it? Or was he afraid of what might happen if he _did _agree to it? Just having his partner's oh-so-achingly-familiar body embracing his at the park was enough to make his heart pound with excitement and his own body to go into overdrive. He knew they had to take baby steps here – but could he even be in the same room with him without wanting to grab him and fuck him senseless until he couldn't breathe, walk, or speak? Somehow he would do it, though, because the alternative of only seeing him occasionally was unbearable and unacceptable.

"Brian?" He hadn't noticed his hand squeezing Justin's leg harder in frustration until he heard him calling his name again. Somewhat sheepishly, he grimaced a little before glancing over again at his partner; it was only then that he realized he still hadn't answered his question. "Where would you _like_ to stay, Justin?" he finally asked him simply, holding his breath. _Please say with ME, Sunshine._

Justin bit his lip in thought. It probably made more sense for him to stay with his family, and it _might_ help him to regain his memories. Yet, it had been _Brian_ he had been dreaming of and drawing for the last two weeks, _NOT_ his friends or family. It was also _Brian_ who he had the most connection with right now, and the one who he inexplicably felt comfortable with. Would he, then, be willing to let him stay with _him_? Apparently, that was where he was planning on going in the first place before he was in that horrible accident. He knew they couldn't just pick up where they had left off, but would the man agree to let him stay there for now? There was no guarantee if he _did_ stay with his mother that he would remember anything quicker or more clearly than if he stayed with Brian. And Brian had already told him that his mother and father were divorced and she did not live in the home that Justin grew up in, so he wouldn't have any emotional connection to her condo. His sister, also, was still staying with their grandparents for another week or so. Brian's loft that he had described for him apparently held many years' of memories for him – for them _both_. Didn't it make the most sense, then, for him to go _there_ if he wanted to hopefully regain what he had lost?

Brian kept glancing over at his partner as he drove, anxiously waiting for his response. He pursed his lips together, silently urging Justin to say what he hoped to hear. At last, Justin responded. "I think if it's okay with you…..," he began hesitantly, as Brian bit his lip in apprehension, "…..that……I'd like…….to stay at your loft," he finished, feeling unexpectedly a little shy as if he were inviting himself to stay at a stranger's house and hoping for a hospitable answer. "If you don't mind," he added nervously.

Brian let out a soft, relieved breath, trying hard not to let the broad smile appear on his lips but only partially succeeding. He turned to smile softly at the other man, who returned his smile with a slight one of his own. "No," Brian managed to answer calmly, evenly, although his heart was doing somersaults in his chest and his pulse was beating rapidly at the relief and excitement thrumming throughout his body. _Justin….home…..at the loft_. He never, ever thought he would be able to say that again and his heart _sang_ at the thought. That mantra kept playing itself over and over again internally as he added, "That would be _fine_ with me." _MORE than FINE. Try wonderful, fantastic, stupendous, thrilling and superb all rolled up into one_.

Justin merely nodded as he continued to smile at the brunet. He was relieved that Brian didn't seem to have a problem with him staying at the loft. Somehow he instinctively knew this would be the best starting point for him. Not only should it help to be in a place that he should be familiar with, but Brian would be invaluable in providing him with more information about his past, at least his _recent_ past. And now that he had a definite place to stay, he could concentrate on reconnecting with the rest of his past life and the friends and family who could help him rewire the connections back together. Maybe, even, with all their assistance, he wouldn't _need _professional help. He had seen more than his share of hospitals and doctors lately; hell, he had even _lived_ with one for almost the past two weeks. He wasn't looking forward to more tests and more treatment if he didn't need them.

As he turned to gaze once more out the window, his thoughts turned briefly to Andrew. He knew the man was concerned about his welfare, and was anxious for Justin to continue his treatment. He hadn't had the opportunity to begin treatment with the doctor that Andrew had helped set him up with for hypnosis, and he knew Andrew was concerned about that. He had promised the other man that he would continue his treatment back in Pittsburgh. Was it really necessary, though, if he could accomplish the same goal by surrounding himself with people and places that he should know intimately?

As if he was reading part of his thoughts, he heard Brian speaking to him softly. "There _is_ one thing, though, Justin," he began tentatively. As Justin looked at him puzzled, he explained. "We need to decide how to break the news to everyone……about you being alive, I mean," he elaborated. Smiling, he added, "Not that it's not the best fucking news anyone will ever hear, I'm sure. But I don't think we can just call everyone up on the phone and say, "By the way, you know that part about Justin being dead? Well, guess what – he's _not!_"

Justin actually laughed a little at the other man's melodramatic statement. "No, I guess we can't," he agreed.

"But by the same token, I don't think it's wise to just throw a big party and bring everyone over at the same time," he decided. Justin turned his head to look at him, his eyebrows rising in a silent request for an explanation. "I don't know shit about how the brain works," Brian told him, "especially _your_ brain," he quipped, receiving a slight grimace from his partner. "But at the same time, I don't want you getting overwhelmed with attention right now. I think we should take things slowly, and start with your mother first. I could call her on her cell and ask her to meet us either at the loft or her condo. Would that be all right with you? I think it's only fair we let her know as soon as possible what's happened." Brian had grown to respect Justin's mother a great deal; they didn't exactly started out on the right track – not after he had taken her "baby" and promptly seduced him – but over time they had actually grown closer, based mainly on a common goal they unexpectedly found out they shared – their love for a certain blond haired, blue-eyed artist. Brian knew how devastated Jennifer had been over her son's death – the least he could do was let her share in his joy _now_. He also remembered how overwhelmed and fearful his partner had been the last time he had been thrust into the limelight after such a traumatic event – that awful bashing at the hands of that asshole, Chris Hobbs – and he was determined to make sure that didn't happen _this _time. At least this was a much happier reason for Justin to be seen in public again. But Brian was afraid that when word got out that a miracle had happened out of the awful tragedy that had occurred in Harrisburg, his partner would be besieged by attention, something Justin normally shrank from. He wanted to protect him as much as possible from this type of sensory overload for fear what it might do to him physically as well as mentally.

For some baffling reason, though, the thought of being reunited with his mother made Justin nervous. Would he know her immediately? How would he react? There was no way to know. But he _did_ agree with Brian – the thought of meeting so many people at one time terrified him. How would he feel? How would _they_ feel, especially if he didn't recognize them? He sighed in worry as he glanced over at the brunet, who was curiously but patiently waiting for his answer. He finally slowly nodded his head. "I think that would be best," he told him quietly.

Brian nodded in agreement; he decided not to press his partner for now but just take things one step at a time. "Well, we're about 30 minutes outside of Pittsburgh now," he told Justin. "It'll take us about 15 minutes longer to reach my loft. Why don't we hold off calling her for a while until you get acclimated a little and then I'll call and ask her to come over?" As Justin nodded his agreement, Brian secretly hoped, too, that maybe a little bit of time in the loft – with just the two of them – might help his partner to recall at least part of their life together.

As Justin turned to look out the window, he felt the light, reassuring pressure of Brian's hand on his leg, offering comfort and a link to his past; he knew Brian also hoped it would be a link to their future as well. There was no way really to know for sure _what_ would happen. Andrew had told him as much and his inability to put most of the pieces of his past together so far were evidence of that. But he was finally going _home_. So how did that make him _feel_? Nervous, certainly. Unsure of himself, definitely. But the rest? He was a jumbled knot of emotions at the moment – excited, anxious, hesitant, exhilarated in a way but also scared. Hell, his hands were shaking right now and his heart was pumping so hard he felt like it was about to come out of his chest. He watched as the downtown skyline rushed past them as they steadfastly hurried to their destination – a destination that Justin hoped would be the start of his recovery.

That hope was currently being shared by the man sitting next to him, idly caressing the blond's upper leg just above his knee. Brian was anxious as well – curious as to what Justin would do or what his reaction would be when they got to the loft. God, they had shared so many memories there. So many events in their six years together. Good times and bad times, from their first meeting to their slowly blossoming _relationship_. Yes, _relationship_. There was no point in denying that's what it was _now_. After all, he had not only professed his love to Justin a year ago, he had _proposed _to the man. And despite what Justin thought at the time, he would have _married_ him, too, as long as he knew it made Justin happy. When the two of them had decided not to get married, was that _really_ what they had both wanted? At the time, it had seemed so. Now, he wasn't so sure. Would it have been such a bad thing if it HAD involved some type of change or sacrifice? Wasn't there always some type of give and take when it came to important events in your life? Back then, he really thought they were going their separate ways so each could grow, could pursue their dreams. Now, after what he had been through the past two weeks, he was seeing his priorities in a totally different light. He no longer wanted _any_ type of life, not without Justin – he WAS his life.

He heard a sigh from the passenger side. "Justin?" he whispered, concerned; he knew it was silly, but every time he heard the slightest sign of distress from his lover, it made him worried. _I guess that's what happens when you go through a death and come out on the other side._

Justin peered over at him, noting Brian's creased forehead and look of sincere concern in his eyes – the eyes that were so hauntingly familiar in a way and yet unknown to him. "I'm okay," he reassured him, seeing the man's face relax just a little. "I'm just nervous, I guess," he admitted, smiling a little hesitantly.

"That's perfectly understandable, you know," Brian told him smoothly, trying hard to make his partner feel more at ease. After they had returned to the car at that rest stop, he had been heartened to notice that Justin had relaxed somewhat, and seemed more at peace with his present situation. He observed, however, that the closer they got to Pittsburgh, the more agitated Justin seemed to become. It was obvious in his fidgeting on the seat, his occasional soft sighs, and the hands that were constantly in motion on his lap.

"I know this is hard for you," he told the blond. "Everything is strange and unfamiliar. In a way, you're being taken from what is familiar to you now and being thrust into a situation with people and places you may not recognize. That's bound to create a lot of nervousness. But I really think this is for the best, Justin. I'm not an expert, but I really think it's important that you surround yourself with people and places from your past. It's almost like when you were bashed – the psychiatrist friend I spoke with said to actually make you _relive_ the pain." As Justin looked at him in astonishment (Brian had told him earlier about how he had initially gotten the original scar on his head, although it had proceeded to open up the brunet's painful memories of that time all over again), Brian nodded to let him know he had heard him correctly. "Yes….that's what he told me. At the time, I thought he was fucking _crazy_ – it scared the shit out of me at the thought of you having to actually _relive_ that night all over again – and in the end you STILL couldn't remember. But later you _did_ remember enough of what happened to be able to move on and deal with it." Brian turned to look out the window, deep in thought. "You don't know how often I wished that I could have _forgotten_ it, too…..at least the parts _after_ we danced." He turned to look back at Justin, his smile soft and nostalgic. "But not the dancing - I never wanted to forget _that_ part," he admitted reflectively. _Nor how I finally admitted to myself that night just how much I fucking LOVED you, Justin Taylor_. It would always be one of the best and one of the worst nights of his life. "Of course, I'm not _about _to let you on a damn train now – or maybe _ever_," he told him pointedly, his eyes piercing and dark with resolve. "But I can at least bring you back where you belong."

Brian was right, Justin thought. It _was_ hard. Pretty much _everything_ had been hard since he woke up in that hospital bed. Every day and every night of not knowing his name, where he was from, or anything about his life was hard. Not knowing his past was hard. Not knowing how he got where he was had been hard. Traveling to Pittsburgh in a quest with Andrew to hopefully find out something about himself, only to have his dreams shattered, was the hardest of all. But through all that, there was still one constant – the man who was sitting next to him: _Brian_. Even before they were reunited, he was there – in his dreams and his drawings. That was what he would hold onto for now.

"You know," Justin whispered softly, turning to look over at the man who was helping him to hold onto his sanity through all this turmoil, "Even when you didn't know I was still alive, I could somehow still feel your presence." He laughed abruptly and grimaced. "Oh, _my God_ – why do I feel like I just read a line from one of the Star Wars movies?" To his delight, Brian actually chuckled at that comment. It felt good to see the other man laugh for a change; it seemed like during their car ride, he was constantly peering over at him like he was some fragile piece of spun glass that was about to break.

He turned serious, however, when he explained, "What I meant was – even though I hadn't met you – you know what I mean – I still somehow _knew_ you. Through my dreams and my drawings. I think when things get crazy and scary in the next few days – and I have a distinct feeling they _will_ – that's what I'll hold onto. _You_." He smiled somewhat awkwardly and bit his lip, suddenly embarrassed and shy, as he looked down at his hands in his lap and took a soft, calming breath.

Brian's heart swelled with joy at his partner's heartfelt words of confidence. He couldn't think of a better place for Justin to be – by his side. In fact, he wasn't letting him out of his sight, at least for a while.

He lifted his hand and gently pulled the expressive face back up to meet his gaze. Although for Brian, it continued to be very difficult to express his emotions, even to Justin, for _this_ man he would do it. He _had_ to do it – to make him understand how important he was to him. "Sunshine," he murmured tenderly, lightly caressing the slender, pale chin; he could feel the other man actually trembling under his touch. He fervently hoped it wasn't from fear but nerves – he was reassured by the man's soft, trusting eyes staring back at him. Plunging ahead, he softly told him, he eyes darting back to the road only as necessary, "You can _do_ this. WE will do this – _together_. I won't give up until you remember it _all_. I won't give up on us." He smiled at the other man fondly, as he noticed the tears filling up in the sapphire eyes. "You always _were_ such a sentimental twat," he gently chided him. "I'm……glad to see that _some_ things are the same." Justin smiled at him sheepishly, a look that Brian had always found so irresistible.

Could he be so bold? Before he second guessed himself, he quickly picked up the damaged, still-casted left hand of his partner and brought it up to his lips to kiss the exposed knuckles. He closed his eyes briefly in ecstasy; how he had dreamed, had _longed, _to feel and taste him again. Now that he could finally, actually indulge in the reality, it was beyond his wildest dreams. It felt – almost like _flying._ Flying without a net – exhilarating, heart stopping, and thrilling. He was astonished how such a simple action as kissing his partner's hand could make his heart rejoice. He wondered what would happen once he and Justin were alone in the loft – how he was going to control himself at that point he had no idea. But he had to _try_ – he couldn't be without him any longer.

As he held Justin's hand up to his lips, he was gladdened to see that his partner didn't pull his hand away; instead, he could actually feel Justin's hand shaking as his lips leisurely relished in the taste and feel of his lover. After a few seconds and with extreme reluctance, he gently released Justin's hand to let it fall back in his partner's lap; his own, now slightly trembling hand took its customary spot back on the blond's leg, the denim not able to disguise the warmth underneath. _Warm…..and ALIVE_. _ALIVE_.

Brian cleared his throat, trying hard to concentrate on his driving. Just the action of kissing Justin's hand had totally diverted his focus. "Uh….here's our exit," he advised his partner, turning back to his driving now. "We should be home in about 10 minutes." _Home. He fervently hoped Justin would soon feel like it was HIS home, too._

Justin's heart pounded with hope, excitement and anticipation. He was about to take a vital step in his journey of discovery. He internally crossed his fingers the closer they came to Brian's loft and prayed that something, _anything_, would click in his mind. He would soon find out, because he noticed Brian slowing the car at last and pulling up in front of a small brick apartment building.

"This is it," Brian verified, his voice slightly shaking. He still had a hard time believing this was really happening. Justin was actually here, and they were about to return to the loft – _their_ loft. _Together_. Was it just less than twenty-four hours ago that he had been in the grips of utter despair? And now here he was – in the highest heights of jubilation. No amount of E or any other drug could _ever, ever_ compare to this feeling right now.

Justin slowly opened the door and stood up by the side of the car, gazing up at the building. He was slightly disappointed to note that he did not feel any particular affinity toward it; but he was hopeful that once they were inside, perhaps Brian's loft would be more familiar to him.

Brian opened the trunk of the car and reached inside for his suitcase and attaché as well as the painting of him and Gus. He briefly struggled over how to handle both items, as well as take care of Justin, before his partner solved his dilemma for him. "I'll take your suitcase and attaché," he offered, as he reached over to grab the handle of the rolling overnight bag with his right hand and slung the attaché strap over his shoulder.

Brian smiled his thanks and propped the painting under his arm as he closed the trunk lid. As Justin stood somewhat uncertainly on the sidewalk, Brian took his hand gently and slowly encouraged him to follow him to the front door. _This is it – the start of our new life together_, Brian thought, a lump forming in his throat. _Please – if this is a dream, don't let me wake up._

As the two of them entered the elevator and it began to ascend upward, Justin's heart was thumping and his pulse was beating erratically as Brian continued to hold his hand. The warmth and surprising softness of his partner's hand helped him to feel reassured that he was doing the right thing by returning with him. It felt……_right_. It felt….._good_. As he smiled at Brian, the brunet squeezed his hand slightly in encouragement.

A sudden, unexpected flash of recognition permeated his brain. Although it only lasted a few seconds – there was a vision of the two of them taking this journey before as they passionately kissed and embraced – it was enough for his face to warm and his skin to turn pink.

Brian frowned. He pulled on the other man's hand slightly, causing Justin to move closer. "Justin?" he whispered. There it was again – the _worry_. He just couldn't help it, damn it. "Anything wrong?" he asked. _Please don't tell me you're regretting this decision, Sunshine. I couldn't take that right now_ _– not when we've come this far_.

To his relief, Justin shook his head and actually flashed him a small, embarrassed-looking smile. "No," he replied, his voice choking up a little in emotion. "I……I think I _remembered_ something, Brian," he told the other man, twisting his face. Like all the other visions he had had of Brian, this one served to confirm once again just how tactile the other man apparently was – at least when it came to _him_.

Brian's heart jumped in elation. "You….._remembered_ something?" he cried in delight, his eyes lighting up. Right now, that word was the most wonderful word he had ever heard. "_What_ did you remember?" he pressed, anxiously waiting to hear what it was.

He noticed Justin flushing an even darker shade of pink before he answered him. "I had this brief moment of recognition – just a couple of seconds, really," he informed him, not wanting to get his partner's hopes up _too_ much at this point. "You and I were in this elevator before and we were……well, we were….."

"Kissing and climbing all _over_ each other," Brian finished for him; the other man's deep blush served to confirm that he was correct, and he grinned broadly now. "That would be correct, Sunshine!" he exclaimed gleefully. "You don't think we ever rode up on this fucking elevator _without_ fucking, do you?" he joked.

Justin twisted his face in amusement. "No….I guess not," he agreed congenially. "No point in wasting a perfectly good fucking opportunity, I suppose." He actually grinned at the other man – as he suspected, definitely an extremely _tactile_ person. "So tell me," he asked, a little uncomfortable but nevertheless curious. "Did I give as good as I got?"

Brian laughed, nodding. "Indubitably," he confirmed enthusiastically. "You could _more_ than keep up with me, Mr. Taylor. And there're not too many men who can _say_ that." He sobered then as he hastily explained. "Actually…..there haven't _been_ any other men, Justin," he confessed softly, his eyes full of emotion. "Not for a long time now." _Once we met, no one could really ever compare to you._ _It just took me a while to ADMIT that._

Justin looked down in embarrassment at the other man's intense look and heartfelt admission. Despite their uncertain future, he still felt inexorably drawn to this man and touched by his words. He struggled for just the right thing to say to reassure him that things would somehow work out, but was spared the dilemma by the sound of the elevator coming to a stop.

Brian briefly released his hold on Justin's hand to swing the door open. "This is it," he softly told the other man, as he placed his arm around the blond's waist and walked with him a short way to an imposing, metal door. Punching in a code as Justin stood back a few feet, he slowly slid the door open and scooted to the side to allow Justin to enter first. He wanted to give his partner the opportunity to experience his return to their home by himself. He hoped that somehow that would have more of an impact on him initially. He was eagerly hoping that once he had a good look at the loft, all the memories – good and bad – would come flooding back to him.

He slowly followed Justin as the blond tentatively entered the loft, a look of extreme puzzlement and curiosity on his face. Brian stood, leaning against the open doorway, as he intently watched the surreal scene playing out in front of him. Once again he was hit with the feeling that he _must_ be dreaming. He hadn't even been back to the loft once since Justin had died; between staying with Michael and Ben, and then visiting Gus in Toronto, he had been able to avoid coming back here. Michael had even been coming over to pick up his clothes. He could, therefore, successfully avoid returning to a place that had held so many memories of the two of them. His heart just couldn't stand it. He had just come to the sad realization that he should sell this place when he was called urgently to Harrisburg on business.

Now here he was, less than twenty-four hours later, standing in the doorway as he watched in astonishment as the man he thought he had lost forever slowly studied every detail of his loft. He wrapped his hands around his arms, almost placing bruises on them in an attempt to reassure himself that what he was seeing _was_ real. He vowed right then and there that he would do _anything_, take as much time as Justin needed, give him _anything_, as long as he could stand there and drink in the picture he was seeing in front of him right now.

Justin gazed agape at the difference between this living space and Andrew's. While Andrew's was furnished in modest Victorian antiques and plush, comfortable furnishings, _this_ space was HUGE. It had impressively-tall ceilings and high, vast windows overlooking the street below. And while Andrew's furniture had that well-loved, slightly worn look, _this_ place was crisp, bold and _in-your-face_. It gave the appearance of being a showcase rather than a home. Had Justin actually been _comfortable_ living in this foreboding structure? Thinking back over some of his dreams from the prior two weeks, he decided somehow he _must_ have. He certainly had _appeared_ at ease in his dreams, at least. Right now, though, as he continued to focus on every detail of the place, there didn't appear to be so much as a pen out of place and not a speck of dust anywhere. It was hard to even tell that someone actually _lived_ here.

Perhaps most distressing of all, however, was the fact that despite his great hope, his mind did not _recognize_ it. At least not outside of his previous dreams. He was somewhat relieved to realize that at least his dreams of this place had been accurate – he could vividly recall, for instance, the white chaise sitting over in the corner. And as he walked over toward the bathroom and saw the large, imposing glass-enclosed walk-in shower, his face flushed again as he thought of the dream he had had when the two of them were in there almost violently fucking as they kissed passionately, his face turned and smashed up against the wall.

And as he walked pensively over to the nearby bedroom, he recalled how this was where his most vibrant dreams had taken place. Whether they were standing together, embracing and kissing passionately, their bodies melded as one flushed together, or whether they were tenderly making love on the king-sized bed or just downright _fucking_, he could _feel_ it. _This_ was where their passions ignited and their innermost feelings surfaced. This was where they had shared their most private dreams and fantasies with each other. He fretted as he wondered sadly, _is that all it will BE? A dream of what occurred? Not a place to rekindle what we should still HAVE?_

He finally looked around for Brian, who unbeknownst to him had walked into the loft and was now standing near the bedroom, leaning against one of the panels and intently staring at him for his reaction. The hazel eyes held a look of hope and longing as he studied him. He noticed that at some point Brian had shed his suit, tie, and shoes, and was standing there simply in his dress pants and white, opened business shirt. With his bare feet and the top button of his pants undone, Justin couldn't help noticing that he looked sexy as hell, even a little dangerous. But he certainly didn't feel nervous or scared around him. But he _did_ feel regret, and yes, guilt. Regret that what both of them had hoped for hadn't yet materialized, and whether deserved or not, guilt over having to put this man through all this fresh pain and grief.

"Don't," he heard Brian say firmly but softly. "I _know_ what you're doing," he informed him, as he slowly walked toward him now. "I can tell you don't remember yet," he told him perceptively, now placing his hands on either side of Justin's arms. "Justin," he tenderly ordered him. "Look at me." The commanding tone of his voice had the intended effect, as Justin slowly raised his head to meet his gaze, the repentant look still clearly written on his face as the eyes glistened with frustrated tears.

Brian felt a strange sense of role reversal and déjà vu as he firmly told his partner, "It's _NOT your fault_." His throat constricted as he replayed in his mind a previous time when Justin had told him the same thing. He had a feeling that Justin didn't believe him right now any more than Brian had back_ then_. But despite that horrific episode in their lives, they had persevered through that and they would triumph over _this_, too, damn it.

With extreme difficulty, he wiped the look of imposing despair and pain off his face and firmly told the other man, "It _doesn't_ matter. Whether your memory comes back now or a fucking _year_ from now, it doesn't matter. Do you hear me? I'm not going ANYWHERE, Justin. And neither are _you_. I won't LET you. We will get through this _together_ and I will _not_ stop until you find the help you need – no matter _what_ it takes." At the sound of Brian's compassion and his voice full of resolve, Justin's eyes filled even more with unshed tears as he shook his head slightly in frustration, unable to speak.

As Brian looked at the pale face filled with pain, he wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms and urgently kiss his anguish away and make love to him all night long. Perhaps that might actually _force _Justin somehow to remember. But he couldn't take that risk. Despite his body yearning for deeper contact, he gritted his teeth and held the other man at arm's length. Until he was sure he wouldn't somehow do more harm to him, he couldn't chance it.

He didn't resist, however, when Justin suddenly pulled him into his arms and wrapped his own slender ones around his back. Brian sighed as he molded the other man into him, pressing the blond head against his chest as he cradled the slender body reverently. His heartbeat reverberated in his ears as he felt the other man trembling, why he wasn't quite sure. He longed to do more than just hold Justin, but for now it was enough. Just knowing that his partner was seeking _him_ for comfort and support, rather than _that doctor_, was reassuring to him. As long as he had that, they could work on the rest of it. And they _would_. For as long as it took.

He finally loosened his hold on the other man reluctantly, pulling back enough to take a studious look at him. He reached down with one hand to tenderly wipe the tears from the soft blue eyes before he whispered, "This is a _start_, Justin. A beginning point. Maybe it's not all we had hoped for, but it _is _a start." Trying to sound more upbeat than he sounded, he added as cheerfully as he could, "Look. You haven't even talked to your mother or your friends yet. We have to give it _time_. Yeah, it fucking _kills_ me, Sunshine, that you can't remember. But it will _come_ in time – I really believe that. And _YOU_ need to _believe _it, too. Okay?" He peered down at him expectedly. He knew Justin was still Justin, whether he remembered everything or not. And Justin wasn't a quitter.

Justin studied his partner. He _knew_ how disappointed he must be – as disappointed as he was, no doubt. But he still believed in them; he was still encouraging him that things would improve. What other choice did he have but to keep trying? He wanted his life back. And this was only the start. There would be other methods to try. He just hoped it didn't take a long time before something worked. He didn't even think about it not working at _all_ – that was NOT an option. It HAD to. For _both_ their sakes.

Justin bit his lip as he tried to compose himself. Taking a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and taking one last sniffle, he answered simply, "Okay," as he nodded in agreement.

Brian nodded in return; he had expected nothing less from his partner. He released him from his embrace only to take his undamaged hand and slowly pull him toward the living room to find his cell phone. "Then let's go call your mother," he said softly. "She's about to find out the most incredible news of her life."


	27. Chapter 27:  A Mother's Miracle

_Liberty Diner – Early Evening_

"They're really amazing, aren't they?" Jennifer knew Debbie was talking to her, but she found she couldn't look away from the artwork on the wall. How long had Justin's drawings been there now? Three, four years? In a way, it seemed like just yesterday that her son had proudly showed them off to her that day when she had come in for a bite to eat. She didn't know the owner of the diner had agreed to place some of his smaller, framed prints on the wall, but she had recognized them as her son's work immediately. Energetic, surreal, abstract; each one reflecting her son's emotions at the time. Even when he would hold his emotions inside, she could always tell what Justin was feeling simply by just looking at his drawings. She also observed that once her son had met Brian, his drawings had dramatically changed. Gone were the simple, almost primitive, classically-composed still lifes and portraits. In their place were dynamic, vibrant and almost _pulsating_ works. Some artists went through certain phases in their lives, their work reflecting those changes. The Cézanne Period, the Cubist Movement, Pop Art Culture. With Justin's work, there were two stages: the _Before-Brian_ Period, and the _After-Brian Period_. What would have been the ultimate, lasting legacy of her son's career would never be known now. But at least the prolific paintings and drawings he had done once he _had_ met Brian would help her to never forget his incredible talent. And while she could feel the still-fresh pain coursing through her at the thought that she would never see a new work from her son ever again, her spirit was also lifted by the fact that her son's talent and passion would always be showcased in what he _had_ accomplished.

She sighed as she finally turned away from the wall to find Debbie patiently holding the hot water carafe out to her. The two mothers exchanged a silent greeting of sorrow and comeradarie over their mutual loss of a young man they had both loved as a son. "You okay?" Debbie asked her friend with a soft smile, although she already knew the answer to that question. She also knew that Jennifer wouldn't really be surprised to see her back at work at the diner. They were both alike; at least working helped to keep their mind off what had happened two weeks ago. Not that they would _ever_ forget what they had lost, but at least for just a while – just a _little_ while, they could occupy their thoughts with something else.

Jennifer smiled in acknowledgment of her friend's solicitude. "Not really," she answered truthfully, as she turned once again to stare at the closest of her son's paintings on the wall. There really wasn't any point in trying to disguise her feelings, not with Debbie. She knew the redhead's feelings had run deep for her son and how much she had grown to love him, too. In a way, Debbie's feelings were even more special than hers, because while Jennifer was Justin's biological mother, Debbie had chosen to adopt her son as one of her own. Of course, with Justin, that wasn't hard; he had always been so easy to love in the first place.

She sniffled as tears unexpectedly formed in her eyes. God, she was hoping that finally she was starting to come to grips with what had happened; what a fool she was to think that. Every little thing still reminded her of him; not only his paintings, but his favorite foods, his favorite songs, his friends, even Brian's son, Gus, who had called her the other night, just to speak to his "grandma." Justin had loved him so, as if he were his _own_ little boy. She was surprised to hear from Lindsey that Brian hadn't yet told his son about Justin, but she also understood. Telling his little boy that his _poppa_ wasn't going to be able to ever see him again was no doubt going to be the hardest task Brian would ever do. Shaking her head sadly, she realized she had never really known just how big a ripple effect her son had had on so many people; so many lives had been impacted by his relatively short life. Perhaps when it was all said and done, _that_ would be his lasting legacy, not just his incredible artwork.

As Debbie glanced around at the fairly sparse crowd, she took a seat next to Jennifer in the booth and gently placed the carafe down on a napkin. Since Justin's death, the normally ebullient woman had been downright subdued, her demeanor very similar to when Vic had died. Jennifer thought this had hit her even harder, though. While Vic's death was very sad and even somewhat unexpected, Justin's death had been like the sun going supernova and burning out in an instant.

As if Debbie had read her thoughts, she spoke up, her chocked voice barely above a whisper, "He was _so_ talented, and _so _sweet, Jennifer. But what I miss most of all was his _smile_. God, he had the most wonderful smile. It made you feel like you were the most wonderful person in the world when he smiled at you. And no matter how much of a shitty day I could have been having, just that smile would make things seem okay again." She glanced over at Jennifer and noticed the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Oh, shit – I'm sorry, Jennifer," Debbie blurted out. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Jennifer laughed ironically and shook her head. "No – it's not you, Debbie. It doesn't take much for me to cry nowadays. It's not like something like this happens one day and next week you're right as rain." As Debbie reached over to take the other woman's slender hand in comfort, she added, "Don't ever feel bad about talking to me about Justin. He was a wonderful son. And you're right – he _did_ have the most wonderful smile – it would just melt your heart. But you know what? Even if he hadn't had that fantastic smile, he would have still glowed from the inside, because of the type of man he was. So concerned about others, often to his own detriment. So independent and stubborn in one way, but so anxious to be accepted and loved in another. So much in a hurry to grow up, but he could still play with Gus like he was just another little kid." Jennifer wiped the tears that were now escaping from her eyes as she thought fondly of her only son. Shaking her head again, she whispered, "I still can't believe he's gone." She looked at Debbie intently and smiled wistfully. "Don't make the mistake I made, Debbie," she said fervently. "I know that Justin knew how much I loved him, but don't wait until it's too late to keep making sure they know it. Don't assume you will have another chance."

Debbie grimaced. "You don't have to tell _me_ that," she answered sorrowfully. "I learned that lesson the hard way when Vic died." Before Jennifer could offer her some words of comfort, she quickly added, "Oh, I know – I know that Vic knew I loved him, even if our last words were ones of anger. But it sure fucking makes you still feel so _guilty_." She swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat before reassuring the other woman, "You don't have _anything_ to be sorry about when it came to your son. You may have taken a little while to accept the fact that he was gay, but once you did, you gave him all the support he could ask for. He loved you so much. He was proud of you and I know you were of _him_, too." She shook her head sadly. "It's still so fucking _unfair_, though. I'm going to miss Sunshine, Jennifer."

Jennifer smiled tenderly at her friend. "I know, Debbie," she answered softly in a choking voice. "Me, too."

Debbie nodded. She realized abruptly that she had spent several minutes longer than she had intended with her friend. Standing up, she reached over to pour some of the hot water into Jennifer's cup for more tea. "If there is _anything_ you need – _anything_," she emphasized, "You call me, you hear?" she pointed her red-lacquered finger at her and stared at her intently.

Jennifer smiled fondly at her. "I will," she promised, as she patted the other woman's arm in gratitude. Nodding at her one last time with a slight smile, Debbie turned back toward the counter to pick up a waiting food order.

As Jennifer enjoyed one final cup of tea before her appointment, she reached over to snag her ringing cell phone from her purse.

"Hello?"

"Jennifer." The voice was instantly recognizable; Jennifer was somewhat surprised, though, to hear his voice. Since Justin's death, his partner had been staying with Michael and Ben and pretty much working non-stop, no doubt for the same reason she had been working so many hours lately.

"Brian," she responded tenderly. Over the past few years, she had become quite fond of her almost son-in-law. The man had slowly won her over with his continuing support and love for her son. "How are you?" she asked softly, genuinely concerned. Brian was one of the few people, in addition to maybe Daphne, who could appreciate the depth of deep pain that Jennifer was still feeling over Justin's death.

"I'm doing better than I have in a _long_ time," was Brian's surprisingly upbeat answer. Jennifer frowned in puzzlement. If she hadn't known better, she would have almost thought he sounded….._happy_. That, however, would be the _last_ thing Brian would be feeling right now. Was he so broken up over Justin's death that he had finally been unable to resist popping some kind of pill that would make him forget for a while? If he had, she really couldn't blame him. She had been tempted to damn near overdose on her Valium for a few days, until she realized it wouldn't take away what had happened. It might dull her pain, but the grief and _reason_ for the grief would still be there when it wore off. But if Brian needed to escape for a while, she could certainly understand the reason why.

She wasn't quite sure what to say in response to that, however. Somehow saying "I'm glad" didn't seem appropriate. So in the end, she simply settled for a straightforward, "Did you need something, Brian?"

"Yeah, actually I do," he responded. Jennifer thought he sounded a little nervous now. Just what was going on? Were there some unresolved issues with Justin's estate that he wanted to go over? She knew Justin had been quite comfortable financially when he had died, having saved an impressive amount of money from the sale of his artwork in New York. And she knew that Brian and Justin had several accounts and assets that were held jointly. Perhaps that was what Brian needed her help with now. She knew it had to be taken care of, but just the thought of having to deal with the _finality_ of his death was more than she could bear right now. "Brian," she began hesitantly. "If this is about Justin's property…."

"No," he assured her quickly. "Nothing like that. Uh……Where _are_ you right now?"

"Actually, I'm at the diner at the moment. I came in to catch a bite to eat before I go back out to show one of my clients a house they're interested in."

"Uh….Is Debbie around?" At Jennifer's mention of the diner, Brian held his breath. If Debbie was anywhere nearby and overheard who Jennifer was talking to, she would be full of questions about his reason for calling. And despite his knowledge that Debbie loved his partner dearly, he knew instinctively that the last thing Justin needed right now was for this woman to come barging into their loft and try to crush his partner in a tight bear hug while jumping up and down and screaming questions at him. No, they had to do this slowly. Jennifer had to be told first – then they could work on the rest of Justin's circle of friends.

"Uh….Do me a favor, Jennifer. First of all, _don't_ tell Debbie that I'm talking to you – if she's there. And, second, do you think you can reschedule your appointment for another time?"

Jennifer hesitated; why was Brian being so _mysterious_? "Okay…..Debbie's here, but she's over at the counter right now. Brian, I don't know," she answered him tentatively as she bit her lip thoughtfully. "This couple was really interested in seeing this house. And with interest rates as low as they are right now, even waiting until the next day can possibly mean the difference between getting a house and _not_ getting it."

But Brian was persistent; he HAD to be for what was at stake. "Jennifer…..You don't know how _important_ this is," he told her firmly. "I can't tell you over the phone – you'll understand when you see me. Can't you get someone else to take care of it? I really need to see you right away. It's urgent," he added. "You won't be sorry, trust me. Shit – Jennifer, I don't care how you do it! You have to come over to the loft _NOW_." Brian's voice had taken on an almost animated tone. If Jennifer didn't know better, she would say even _excited_. Happy and _excited?_

Jennifer frowned, her eyebrows narrowing. "Brian…..Are you _on _something?" She tried not to sound accusatory as he asked him; she certainly could understand his need for something. But the mother in her couldn't stop the concern from appearing in her voice.

To her surprise, however, Brian didn't deny it. "Yeah," he said, actually _laughing_ now. "You could say that. Only it's a kind of stimulant you would never believe in a million fucking years. Just get over here now, okay? Okay?" he repeated urgently.

Whatever it was, it was obvious to Jennifer that her son's partner was NOT going to take no for an answer. Sighing in resignation and still a little perplexed as to what Brian needed, she finally advised him, "Okay, Brian. Just give me a little time to find someone to cover for me, and I'll come right over."

Brian nodded unbeknownst to Jennifer and breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, good. Just ring the front door button and I'll buzz you on up. I'll be waiting for you. Get her as fast as you can," he urged her somewhat breathlessly.

Still puzzling over just what was going on with Brian, she hung up with her son's partner and began calling her fellow agents to find a volunteer to cover for her, anxious now to find out just what was so important for Brian to make her come there in person.

* * *

_Brian's Loft_

Justin stood tensely next to Brian as he talked to his mother. He couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but he could tell by Brian's tone and his responses that his mother really had no clue what was so important that she had to miss an appointment that evening. After all, she could never guess the real reason why he needed her here. Brian had already filled him in on a little of his mother's background, including her profession as a real estate agent. But except for some photos that Brian had shown him of a tall, elegant, middle-aged blonde-haired woman hugging him while they posed together, and some preliminary facts about her – where she lived, when she got divorced from his homophobic father, and her current boyfriend, Tucker, it was like looking at and hearing about a total stranger. Justin knew intellectually that this woman was his mother – they had the same shade of blonde hair and the same facial structure, for instance; but where it was most important – in his heart - he didn't _feel_ like this was his mother. The question was, would he _ever?_ Would he _ever_ look at ANY of these people who supposedly knew him so well and even loved him and not just see an unfamiliar face?

As he looked over at Brian, again he was struck by how his face alone was the one recurrent theme in his dreams and drawings over the past two weeks, the lone image that somehow seemed familiar and comfortable to him. Not his mother, not even the little boy that apparently thought of him as a second father, not any of the other friends that Brian said knew him well. Not even Daphne, the friend that Brian had said was his best friend since grade school. Brian had shown him photos of all these people, and just like with his mother, they _seemed_ nice in the photos but they were just interesting characters. Characters that could have been out of a storybook, except that Justin didn't feel like he was included in the story. He couldn't help sighing in sadness. How long? How long until the pieces came together? How long until he could feel like he wasn't merely an outsider looking inside someone else's life?

"Justin." The authoritative, yet tender tone of Brian's voice brought him out of his sorrowful reverie. He turned to look at the other man, who had taken his wrist and was grasping it softly, his fingers slowly, lightly caressing the tender flesh underneath. "I can tell by the look on your face that something's bothering you," he stated softly. "What _is_ it?" The hazel eyes were large orbs, probing yet concerned.

Brian pursed his lips and stared at his partner intently. Even now, even when Justin wasn't sure of who he was and who anyone _else_ was, the face was so expressive, so indicative of what he was thinking. And Brian could tell he was worried – worried, confused, and just a little scared. But he waited patiently for Justin to voice his feelings out loud.

Justin took a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated sigh. "Brian," he said, his voice breaking a little. "I don't even remember my own _mother_! I look at her picture and I see a pretty woman who has the same coloring as me, the same face as me, but that's _all_ I see! Why can't I recognize my OWN mother? What's _WRONG_ with me?" Justin abruptly snatched his arm away from Brian as he turned and sat down at the nearby sofa, his hands covering his face and his elbows on his knees; his entire body was a picture of total frustration, hurt, and hopelessness. Brian's heart broke as he looked at the stooped and dejected stance of his partner. He searched urgently inside for the words that would encourage him to keep fighting; giving up was so unlike the man he knew and still loved deeply. Giving up was simply_ not _an option.

He sat down slowly next to his lover, biting his lower lip as he weighed again whether it was okay to touch him. Justin so far had accepted his physical overtures but he was so upset at the moment, he wasn't sure _what_ his reaction would be. But his need to touch him, to comfort him, just to feel his presence, maybe not quite whole but _warm_ and _alive_, outweighed his concern over his possible adverse reaction. He somewhat hesitantly reached over and placed his hand gently on the slender, drooping back. He felt Justin trembling slightly but thankfully not rejecting his touch. As Brian began to slowly rub circles over his back soothingly, he murmured to him, "Justin," he began softly, tenderly. "You were in a _horrendous_ accident. And it's fucking NOT fair, but you lost your memories. You know they're not going to come back all at once. I know you hate for me to say it, but it's going to take _time_, Sunshine. I'm not going to lie to you; I never have and I never will. It may take a LOT of time." As Justin looked over at him in desolation, he tried to put as positive a spin on the situation as he could. "Look…..You remember _me_, at least in your subconscious. That's a start. You remember _something_. You just need help putting everything in order. You need help with how to retrieve those memories. I think your mother is a good start. Yeah, maybe you don't really remember her now, but she can help you to recover those memories. And I promise you, Justin. I will help you every step of the way. We will get you whatever help you need until we either find the right solution or we've exhausted every fucking possibility." Brian's tone held no question that he meant precisely what he said.

Justin instinctively knew he could trust this man somehow; but even _Brian_ was voicing the same worry he was having. "That's just it, Brian," he whispered plaintively. "What if we DO exhaust every possibility, as you put it, and it's not _enough_? What if I NEVER get my memories back? What then, Brian?" he asked, his eyes tearing up.

Brian's throat constricted as he heard the other man's anguish. He never could bear to see Justin in _any_ type of pain, mental or physical. And this had to be the worst type of internal pain he could have, even worse than immediately after that terrible bashing when Justin had retreated into himself and wouldn't allow anyone to touch him. How he wish he could hold him, kiss him, and magically make the pain go away. But this time, his mere touch wasn't going to be enough for Justin to regain what he had lost.

Squaring his shoulders, he told the other man resolutely, "Then we make _NEW _ones, Sunshine. New ones that are even better than the OLD ones," he assured him, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. If they had to retrace their path, would they be able to go down the same, familiar one? The one that led to the deep love the two of them shared? Brian realized right then that Justin wasn't the _only_ one afraid; HE was, too.

Just then, he heard his door buzzer sounding, apparently heralding Jennifer's arrival. Justin looked at him fearfully. Brian tried to smile at him encouragingly, although he knew Justin was extremely nervous about his reunion with his mother. He patted the blond's knee. "How do you want to _do_ this, Justin? Do you want to see her alone first? I can go in the bedroom, or even up on the rooftop, if you want."

"No!" Justin answered forcefully, almost shouting in his intensity. "Don't leave me alone!" He quieted his voice somewhat, rushing through what he had to say as the buzzer insistently sounded again. "I….I'm nervous about meeting her," he admitted, not quite sure why the thought of being reunited with his mother would make him feel so overwhelmed. After all, she would undoubtedly be another piece of the mystery he was so desperately trying to solve. But he also knew he wanted Brian's comforting presence nearby.

Brian nodded readily. "Whatever you want," he assured him, as he stood up to answer the buzzer, which sounded once again. "Stay there," he instructed the blond, as he walked over to the door. "Jennifer?" he called out.

"Yes, Brian," he heard her confirm, her voice sounding somewhat exasperated. "I was beginning to think you weren't there." At the sound of his mother's voice, Justin held his breath. He had seen a picture of her already, but this was the first time he had actually _heard_ her. He was disappointed but not exactly surprised, however, to realize that he didn't recognize her _voice_, either. He sighed once again, sadly, as he tried to figure out just what to do before his mother arrived. Should he just sit there on the couch nonchalantly? Or was it better for Brian to speak to her first? He wondered just who was going to be more shocked here – him or his mother? Just whose mental state was more tenuous at the moment? His, or the woman who was about to find out her son she thought was dead was actually alive? Not exactly whole, but still….._alive_.

"Come on up," Brian instructed her, his body inexplicably wired from their impending meeting. As he heard the familiar, mechanical whine of the ascending elevator, he glanced over at Justin, who was now nervously wringing his hands and breathing shakily. "It's okay, Sunshine," Brian told him softly. "It will be _okay_. She _loves_ you. And she's about to get the most fucking wonderful news of her life."

Justin nodded and tried to look confident. Inside, however, his pulse was racing and his stomach was full of butterflies. What will his mother's reaction be? Will she be disappointed in him, at his inability to remember her? Can she accept him, broken as he is?

His fears were about to be confronted head on, as he heard a knock on the heavy, metal door. Brian looked over at him, nodding in assurance, as he turned to slowly slide the door open. There was really no easy or straightforward way to prepare her for what she was about to see, no way to really blunt the shock she was about to endure. But what she would see would more than make up for it.

"Brian," Jennifer greeted the brunet somewhat flustered. She couldn't figure out what the urgency entailed in her meeting him so quickly and dropping everything to come here, especially after it seemed to take such an inordinately long time for him to even answer the outside buzzer. Was he trying to hide some drugs he was currently taking to blunt his pain? If he was, there was no need; she had certainly seen Brian high on all kinds of intoxicants, drugs and otherwise, several times before. And right now, he could certainly be excused if he were ingesting something to help him forget. "What was the emergency?" she asked him, taking the opportunity to gaze at him thoroughly for any signs of problems. She was surprised to see that his eyes were clear and his face, although lined and drawn due to a lack of rest, showed no outward appearance of being in the throes of some drug-induced stupor. Perhaps she had been wrong about that; but just what was the urgent need for her to be here?

"What's going _on_?" she asked, trying to figure out why he was still standing in the doorway and not allowing her to come in. "Brian," she repeated authoritatively. "What was so urgent?" She was slowly losing patience with him over his obtuseness.

"Jennifer," Brian began, curling his lips under in thought. There really was no way to prepare her…not for _this_. "There's someone here who would like to see you," he began; surely that had to be the understatement of the year – hell, the _century_.

Jennifer shook her head, mystified. "Who?" she pressed, as Brian continued to stand in the doorway, blocking her view of the loft's interior. "Who's here? Your son?" She knew Gus came to visit Brian frequently, but truth be told, she was surprised Brian was even AT the loft. Since Justin had died, he hadn't wanted to set foot in it. Gus visiting would probably be the ONLY way he might agree to it.

Brian shook his head, amused somewhat at the irony of her statement. "No," he told her quietly, as he now slowly turned sideways so she could finally see through into the inside. "Not _my_ son. _YOURS." _

Jennifer looked at Brian sharply; what type of horrible, sick joke was he trying to play? She was sure now that he MUST be spaced out on some kind of drug; it was the only explanation for such an outrageous statement. She was about to respond with a biting, scathing remark about the extreme inappropriateness of his joke when a movement caught her eye and she turned toward the cause. She gasped and her hand flew to her quickly whitening face as she saw HIM. No, it _couldn't be_. She stood transfixed, rooted to the spot as she continued to stare at the vision of her son sitting on Brian's sofa. _No – it wasn't possible. It's a dream. A cruel, cruel dream_. She looked over at Brian for confirmation that only _she_ was seeing her son. That was the only explanation. She could almost laugh – Brian was the one high on some drug while _she_ was the one hallucinating.

As if Brian could read her thoughts, she heard him say gently to her, "No, Jennifer, it's _not_ a dream. It's _REAL_. It's really HIM." He tenderly grasped her shoulders as if to reaffirm to her that she was really standing there with him and that what she was seeing was _real_. "Justin?" she heard him say. "Come over here, will you?"

And……then she _KNEW_. The "dream" slowly, tentatively, _stood up and walked toward her_. Hesitantly. But as Brian continued to hold onto her shoulders from behind, the vision of her dead son kept coming closer and closer until she thought she could actually _smell_ him. "Jus……_Justin?"_ she whispered, almost too softly for anyone to hear. "Is it…..is it really _you?"_ She swallowed hard, her breathing erratic as her eyes became large with disbelief. _This couldn't be POSSIBLE_. _Could it?_

And then the vision SPOKE. "M….Mom?" It was barely a whisper – a hesitant, almost shy sound like it was carried on the wind. But she _heard_ it. "Oh, my God!" She cried out then, her hand again flying to her mouth in stunned disbelief that was slowing warming into something else: hope. "How? How is this _possible?"_ She shook her head in astonishment, her eyes never leaving the vision that looked like and sounded so much like her son. Her son that was supposed to be dead.

"Go on," Brian encouraged her, as he gently gave her a push toward her son. "Do it," he told her. "_TOUCH_ _HIM_." He leaned in toward her and whispered in her ear. "Go ahead," he repeated. "He's really here – I _promise_ you."

Jennifer slowly, nervously stretched out a trembling, shaky hand toward the vision, slowing moving closer to it until she reached out and……she _touched_ him. Felt the firmness and the warmth. This was no vision….this was _REAL_.

"Oh, My God!" she cried, as she quickly pulled her son into her arms and wrapped her own tightly around his body. "Oh, My God!" She couldn't help saying it. This was not possible. Not possible. But he was _HERE_. Here in her arms, alive, his heart beating almost as rapidly as her own. She melted herself into him, just standing there, her hands wrapped tightly around the slender body, which was presently trembling. She didn't know how she could ever let go of him. "Justin," she whispered almost reverently. "Oh, My God. Sweetheart," she sighed as her heart soared. She didn't understand how this could be humanly possible, but right now she didn't care. All that mattered what that some miracle had happened and her son who she had thought was gone forever was here, with her, in her arms. _Alive_.

Brian stood there, tears in his eyes; tears that echoed the ones shining in Jennifer's eyes at the moment. Only now they were both shedding tears of joy, not sorrow. Brian knew they had a long road back, but this was one of the steps – connecting Justin with his past. He was sure that Jennifer would be instrumental in helping her son to recover. There _were_ some things that he needed to explain to her, however.

He looked over at Justin, who was facing him now. He had his eyes closed as he noticed him finally, tentatively, reaching out somewhat awkwardly to embrace the woman who was his mother. Brian knew his partner wasn't quite comfortable returning her embrace, but he also knew his innate compassionate nature wouldn't allow him to be indifferent toward her, even if he _didn_'_t_ remember her the way he should. He was _trying_ to return her feelings; if only he was able to.

"Jennifer," Brian began softly. "There's……some information you need to know. Why don't we all go sit down and talk?" He noticed her continuing to stand there, embracing her son as she cooed intelligible, maternal words to him. Finally, after a few more minutes of embracing her son, who graciously allowed her to continue to caress his back lovingly, she finally sighed and loosened her hold. Her eyes were bright now as she took both of her hands and placed them on either side of her son's head. She pursed her lips in an attempt to hold back more tears as she smiled. "I can't _believe_ it," she told him, still in awe that she was standing there looking at him. "How?" she asked him, as she looked over at Brian a little concerned. Except for calling out to him, Justin hadn't said anything else to her yet.

Justin looked over at Brian, seemingly asking for guidance on how to proceed. Brian noted his uncertainly and decided to take the lead. "Come on, Jennifer," he asked her. "Let's go sit down. We have a lot of things to tell you."

Jennifer looked at her son, who stood there with a nervous look on his face. It was a look she was unaccustomed to seeing on her normally independent, confident son turned successful artist. "Please," was all Justin finally said to her.

"Okay," she relented, _finally_ allowing her son to walk unchaperoned back over to the sofa as she closely followed him. She could tell _something_ wasn't quite right, but her son was _alive_. They could handle anything else now. As soon as she had sat down next to her son, she had to take his hand and hold it. Hold on to the dream that had become a wonderful, miraculous reality. She had to feel the pulse beating, the warmth, and the softness that was her _son_.

As Brian began to speak, Jennifer listened but never took her eyes off Justin, who oddly looked down bashfully as his partner started to explain just what had happened in the past two weeks.

"Where to begin," Brian said. "Well, this is what I know. Justin turned up in a hospital in Harrisburg about a day after the accident. He was found near State Route 55, which is a major thoroughfare that runs through Harrisburg. It also runs parallel to the train track, but everyone there apparently had their heads up their asses and couldn't put two and two together. Sorry," he quickly added at his crudeness. "It's just that someone should have connected the dots and they didn't. They claimed it was because the fire chief had told everyone adamantly that there weren't any survivors, and someone actually found Justin and brought him into the hospital, so they didn't know exactly where he had been found. But it's fucking ridiculous that they didn't realize the connection at the time, or it might have saved everyone a lot of heartache and pain." He briefly closed his eyes, recalling just what depths of pain HE had endured during that time. He definitely never wanted to go through _anything_ like that again.

"Anyway, he was brought to the hospital with several external injuries, which were fairly quickly attended to. It was the _internal_ injuries that were the most worrisome." As Jennifer then looked over at him with concern etched on her face, he explained the painful truth to her. "Justin is suffering from severe memory loss, Jennifer. Except for some bits and pieces of dreams he has been having, and some drawings he has done – mainly of me and Gus, actually," he told her, somewhat embarrassed that she was not included as well – "he pretty much does not recall anything before the accident."

Jennifer's eyes filled with tears as the suffering her son had endured for the last two weeks; her own pain over his apparent death seemed minimal in comparison. But she was also confused. "Nothing?" she asked, as she looked over at her son whose own eyes were sparkling with tears as well. "I don't understand, then. He's here with you. If he didn't remember anything, how is that possible?"

Her son finally spoke up. "I remembered _Brian_," he explained. "I dreamed of him – of our being together. I heard his name in my dreams. I could _draw_ him. Even draw _Gus_ – even though I didn't know his name at the time. I knew Brian was important to me. But I had no way of knowing how to get to him."

"Justin even came here a few days ago – to Pittsburgh." Jennifer gasped as he revealed that fact. Her son was _here_ – in Pittsburgh – and she never knew? "But…if he was _here_, he had to know he was FROM here," she pointed out.

"He knew – somehow. But he was actually at Babylon, because in one of his dreams he had unfortunately recalled the night it was bombed. He knew it had happened. But when he got here, I was in Toronto to see Gus, and Babylon was closed for remodeling. He wasn't able to get in and I wasn't here. Justin gave up and went back to Harrisburg." Brian actually looked ashamed and guilt-ridden over not being there when Justin had tired to find him, even though he knew it was not his fault.

Jennifer's head was spinning with so many questions needing answered. "But….where have you _been_, sweetheart? And how did you and Brian get back together if you didn't know how to find him?"

"One of the doctors that had treated me let me stay with him after I was released from the hospital," Justin explained. "And Brian actually found _me_," he clarified, looking over at Brian and smiling a little at the recollection.

Jennifer noticed a tender look exchanged between the two of them; despite their apparent difficulties, Justin still apparently felt _something_ for his partner still. "How? How did you find him, Brian?"

Brian shook his head at the infinitesimal odds that had been involved in their reunion. "I had to go to Harrisburg on business," he explained. "Justin had donated a painting he had drawn for a fundraiser for the hospital's charity benefit, and the potential client I was seeing had purchased the painting the night before. He had brought it to work with him and hung it up in his conference room. I took one look at it and……I _knew_. I knew who had painted it. The client told me about the doctor Justin was staying with and I found him at the hospital. He led me to Justin." Brian looked at his partner fondly and took his hand, the deep love evident on his face, as well as gratitude. Gratitude to whatever powers that be that had led him back to his partner.

"I still don't understand," Jennifer insisted. It still didn't all make sense. "I can maybe understand how he might still be able to paint, but you tell me he didn't even know who he _was_. How did YOU know? It's not like he could have even signed his real name, right?"

"No, he didn't," Brian confirmed. "One of the nurses at the hospital had actually given him a name – said John Doe sounded too vague for him. She named him after one of her son's friends – Jacob Martin. That's how he had signed the painting, too." At Jennifer's unspoken question, he answered, "I don't _know _how I knew exactly. I just….._knew_." It was the best explanation he could give her. He knew it didn't really make sense, but he just _knew_ it was Justin's.

Jennifer shook her head in amazement. She turned once again to stare at her son. To have him sitting there, alive, back home where he belonged when he didn't even remember his name. And the odds of Brian traveling to Harrisburg at the same time and discovering her son's painting......

"It's....it's a _miracle_," she whispered. "When I think of what might have happened…..If you hadn't gone there, Brian. If you hadn't gone there and seen Justin's painting…..and _recognized_ it somehow....that's something I will probably never understand. If you hadn't been there….we may have _never_ seen you again, Honey. I would have kept going on, thinking you were dead," she said, her voice choking with emotion as she reached her hand over to slowly, tenderly sweep her knuckles over his soft cheek, warm with life. His long eyelashes slowly fluttered closed at her gentle touch momentarily until his eyes opened, the light blue orbs fixing a stare at her.

"Surely there must be _something_ that can be done about his memory," she said to her son as she gazed at him sympathetically.

"They told me that my memory might improve as the swelling around my brain goes down," he told her, trying hard to sound optimistic; the fact that he hadn't recalled much of anything so far, however, didn't make his prognosis look too promising. "And they also mentioned maybe hypnosis," he reported to her.

She smiled. "That sounds encouraging," she told him softly, hoping he would be buoyed by her tone. At the moment the important thing was that he was here with them, back where he belonged. They could only hope the rest would come in time. If it didn't, they would have no choice but to start over. But they would do whatever they had to do. At least he was back home with them – _alive_.

"I told Justin we will do whatever it takes to get his memory back," Brian vowed firmly.

"And I also told _Brian_ that there's a chance it may never return," Justin told her fretfully. That was his greatest worry at the moment, that everything he had learned and everyone he so desperately hoped to recall would be lost forever, along with the feelings that went with them.

"Well, Sunshine, I told you, too – if we have to make new memories, we _will_. You're not getting rid of me _that_ easily, Mr. Taylor," he assured him. And he _meant _it. Now that Justin was back where he belonged, he was in it for the long haul.

Justin nodded in acknowledgment. He tried to smile reassuringly at Brian and his mother, but all the emotions of the past 24 hours were slowly catching up with him. It wasn't necessarily a physical exhaustion; it was more of a mental one. It was sort of like the type of mental exhaustion you experience waiting in a hospital to learn of a loved one's condition; only this time, it was his _own_ condition. It still felt just as overwhelming, however.

"I'm sorry," he told them softly, apologectically. "I'm just so _tired_. Would you mind I lie down for a while?"

"No, Honey," Jennifer told him, still trying to overcome her shock at seeing him there _alive_. She hated to let him out of her sight, but she knew she couldn't touch him and look at him _constantly_, although she was beginning to think that just might be Brian's intention; he had been gripping Justin's hand tightly ever since they had sat down together.

"Go ahead, Justin," Brian told him, trying hard to hide his reluctance at being apart from him. "The bedroom's over there," he pointed over toward the raised sleeping platform, partially hidden by the open, folding panes of glass. "You go lie down and rest. I'll be right here," he assured him. He grudgingly let go of the blond's hand now as Justin rose. Just before he turned to head toward the bedroom, Jennifer couldn't resist one more embrace. She stood and gently took her son once again in her arms, seeking reassuring one last time that this was not a dream – it was a real life _miracle_. Before letting him go, she gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Honey," she told him, her voice breaking with emotion. "I love you so much. And I can't _begin _to tell you how happy I am that I can _tell_ you that again."

Justin nodded, smiling awkwardly in acknowledgment of her and Brian before he turned and walked toward the partially hidden bedroom. As he finally disappeared behind the panes, Jennifer turned to her son's partner. "How are _you_ holding up?" she asked him pointedly. If she had been overwhelmed by what had just happened, she could only imagine what Brian must be feeling at the moment, knowing that the man he loved and had hoped to marry at one time didn't really remember how special their relationship was. "It must be hard for you, too," she emphasized perceptively.

Brian, who had remained on the sofa, nodded before he rubbed his head in his hands. "Yeah," he admitted. "It _HAS_ been a little rough. But you know what? It doesn't fucking _matter_, Jennifer. Because the alternative – of not having him at _ALL_ – was like a knife stabbing me in the heart 24 hours a day. To have him here again – even if he's _not_ back to where he was – even if he's _never_ back to the way he was – I'll take it any day over the alternative of not having him here at ALL. Because at least we have a start – a fucking _hope _that one day he _WILL_ remember. And if he doesn't…..well, we'll deal with that. Somehow, someway, we'll deal with it. One day at a time."

Jennifer looked at Brian fondly; this man had come so far in the past six years. He had grown emotionally. He was no longer afraid to show his feelings; he was downright _open_ now about how he felt toward Justin. She believed now that he had _always_ had that capability; it just took her sweet, never-take-no-for-an-answer son to bring that out in him. And she liked this man. Not only that, she couldn't imagine what his life – or her son's life – would be like without the two of them together. Two parts of a whole. She had no doubt that if anyone could bring her son back to where he had been, it was _this _man.

"I have confidence in you, Brian," she told him fondly, as she turned to go. She hated to leave – her emotions had run the gamut today from total heartrending sadness to an unbelievable, jubilant joy – but she knew her son was safe right now. Not totally well. But safe. For now that was enough. They had the rest of her son's life – his _life! - _to help make him whole again.

She smiled broadly now as a sudden thought crossed her mind. "I think I can see now why you wanted to know if Debbie was in hearing distance. I can just imagine what _her_ reaction is going to be."

Brian smiled as well. "Yeah….I can't quite figure out the right approach to handle _her_. She's going to be bouncing off the fucking wall when she sees him."

"You know you can't keep this a secret for long, not unless you're planning on keeping him a prisoner here," she pointed out.

Brian knew he was teasing her; she knew he would never hold Justin anywhere against his will. And besides that, Justin would never stand for it anyway. "Yeah, I know," he admitted. "But I don't want to throw everyone at him at once. He's still recovering from his injuries. He's probably not going to like it, but I want him checked out at the hospital here tomorrow. I think he needs to go see his old neurologist. He's the one most familiar with him and he can compare the MRIs that were taken then and now. I want another opinion on his injuries and his prognosis," he whispered, not wanting Justin to overhear. Not only did his partner need rest, but he did not want him to get upset about anything right now. He had no doubt, though, that he would have his hands full persuading him to go see another doctor tomorrow. He had a feeling that despite Justin's memory loss, he had seen more than his share of doctors lately.

"I think that's a good idea," Jennifer encouraged him in a soft voice. "Not only him seeing a doctor, but YOU getting some rest, too." She turned to embrace Brian then, who initially hesitated somewhat but eventually returned her embrace, also.

"You're a good man, Brian Kinney," she whispered to him as she reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "But I promise not to tell anyone else – I wouldn't want to ruin your _reputation_."

Brian walked with her toward the door. "Thanks, Mother Taylor," he responded, his lips curling under. "I wouldn't want to surrender my halo just yet."

"No chance of that, Brian," Jennifer assured him, as Brian opened the door for her to leave. _No, she thought to herself. As long as you treat my son the way you do, there's no chance of that at all._


	28. Ch 28: Best Tranquilizer in the World

Brian stood there just inside the loft door for several minutes after Jennifer had left; even though he knew they had a long road to travel yet, just the thought that _finally_ someone else knew about Justin felt like a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Not that he was trying to shift some of the responsibility onto someone else. He simply felt it was important that Justin be exposed to as many reminders of his past as possible, and he was sure Jennifer would be a vital link in helping her son to regain his memory. After all, she alone could help him fill in the gaps regarding his childhood; Justin's shitty father would be the _last _person he could count on at the moment. He knew, too, that she would keep his confidence for the time being while they sorted out the best course of action to take in order to help him. He also realized that if the press got wind of a "miracle man" from the Harrisburg train accident, they wouldn't give his partner a minute's peace. He had seen their attrocious, unceasing stalking of Justin right after his bashing and Chris Hobb's trial; for as long as possible, then, he was determined to keep Justin's amazing survival a secret.

Before he proceeded any further, however, he had to convince his partner to return to the hospital here in Pittsburgh to be checked out. He trusted the doctors there more than in Harrisburg; they had treated Justin for his first head injury and were more familiar with his condition than his most recent caergivers in the other hospital. And if he were truthful with himself, also, the thought of involving Andrew Bradley any further than he had been already repulsed him. Despite that fact that the man had been helpful to Justin when he needed him, there was no sense in complicating matters. He was more than capable of supporting Justin without any additional interference from the man. Plain and simple, Brian Kinney was feeling something he had maybe never felt before – he was feeling _insecure_. He had seen the way that Justin and Bradley had bonded during his partner's short recuperative period in Harrisburg, and he didn't like it. And Justin was just confused enough right now that if their relationship was encouraged in any way, it just might develop into something more. He had no doubt that Bradley would be more than happy to see that happen. But it _wasn't _going to – he wouldn't LET it. Besides, he knew that once Justin's memory returned – and he couldn't think of any other possibility – he would not be interested in the man in the slightest. For as much as Brian was insecure right now, he WAS sure about one thing – the Justin he knew before the accident loved him unequivocally.

He could hear his own soft breathing in the stillness of the loft as he quietly walked over toward the bedroom. He couldn't resist; he had to take one more look at the miracle lying presently in his bed. And that's exactly what he was, he thought, as his glance soaked in the slender body lying on his side on top of the duvet and the soft blond mop of hair splayed out on the pillow. Brian smiled; somehow, Justin had even managed to wind up on _his_ side of the bed. He wasn't sure if it was his partner's subconscious taking over or just plain dumb luck. Whatever the reason, the fact that he was there at all was most _definitely _a miracle. How this wonderful, wonderful man survived an accident that was deemed _impossible_ and was here, back in his bed and in his life again, was almost too much to comprehend. But he was so fucking thankful that he was. _So thankful_, he thought, as his swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes teared up. This time, though, the tears weren't from the unspeakable pain he had been experiencing the past couple of weeks; they were from tears of gratitude.

"Brian?" The soft inquiry come from the bed as the brunet, a little startled, looked up from the floor to notice Justin's head raised slightly from the bed as he sat up on his elbows. "Is everything okay?" he asked, concern in his voice. Justin had _tried_ to go to sleep – he felt so tired from all the excitement today – but maybe _because_ of all the events that had happened, his mind was whirling with facts and emotions. It was hard to believe that just this morning, he was in Harrisburg in Andrew's modest, Georgian-style apartment and now here he was, in a largely unfamiliar city, staying with the man he knew only through his dreams and lying in _their_ _bed_. Through the quickly darkening sky seeping through the closed window curtains and the soft lamplight shining behind him, Justin could see Brian at the foot of the bed, staring at him intently, as if he was trying to commit _him_ to memory. The look was both a little scary and disconcerting in its intensity; he felt his face flush as Brian continued to gaze at him, a mixture of emotions written on his face. He thought he saw tenderness and love, most certainly, but what else – nervousness? Even a little uncertainty? "What is it?" he asked him, concerned. Was Brian sorry he had decided to stay with him after all? Had he been hoping he would elect to go home with his mother? Would that have been easier for Brian to handle? Would it have been easier for _him_? No, he decided. Brian was the one he felt the most comfortable with, the one he _almost_ remembered for real. He _needed_ to be here, if he was ever to rediscover what he had so abruptly and cruelly lost.

Brian shook his head, trying to assure Justin he was okay. He had been hoping Justin would have been asleep by now – he knew how overwhelming today must have been for him. To have started out in one place not knowing anything about your identity and wind up in completely foreign and different surroundings in less than a day _had_ to be extremely difficult. Not to mention he had been reunited not only with his partner, but also his mother, who he really didn't recall at all; it had to be almost too much to handle in such a short time. _All the more reason why I have to convince him to go to the hospital here for a checkup_. But he decided that now was not the time to bring it up. He wanted Justin to try and relax, if that was possible.

Brian slowly walked over to the side of the bed near his partner; as Justin sat up straighter in the bed, the brunet hesitated briefly before joining him. Brian was amazed at the rush of emotions he felt over this simple act. No doubt it was due to the fact that in the last two weeks, he had never thought he would ever again see Justin alive, much less be sitting here in their bed _together_. It didn't matter right now if they were using the bed for fucking, making love, sleeping, or simply just talking. Both men were fully clothed at the moment, but to Brian what they were presently doing seemed as intimate, personal and thrilling as anything _else_ they had done in their bed. They were _together_. God, what a wonderful, indescribably exhilarating statement to be able to make!

"Brian?" Came the soft question once again. Brian noticed to his chagrin he was still zoning out as he pondered the unbelievable miracle of their present situation. He _had_ to quit thinking he was imagining this was really happening and start _working_ on it, though, damn it.

The blue eyes looked at him softly, questioningly, as they seemingly stared deep into his soul. _I could get fucking LOST in those eyes…….willingly._ "Brian," he began again, the hesitation clearly heard in the whisper. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" he swept his arms around the loft as he tried to explain.

Brian frowned, unable to figure out what his partner meant. "What?" he asked somewhat vaguely. Right now there were so many questions and directions they could take, Justin could be asking him about _anything_ right now.

Justin looked down, uncomfortable. Was Brian sorry for his decision? "About…..letting me stay here," he finally explained. "If you think it would be better for me to go stay with my mother, I'm sure she….."

"No!" Brian emphatically answered, reaching over to take the blond's hand firmly with both of his. "How could you _think_ that?" he adamantly scolded him, his voice a bit louder than he had wanted it to be; it was just that he was caught so off guard by the question. He couldn't believe Justin would ask that; how in the world could he _think_ that? Was HE sorry he was staying?

"Justin……How in the fuck could you think I'd not _want_ you here? Are you _crazy?_" He noticed the other man apparently flinch slightly upon hearing the strong conviction in his voice and feeling the almost violent grip he had on his hand. Brian cursed inwardly; _damn it_. "Justin….." His voice this time was much calmer, belying his nervousness and insecurity. _This man can make me feel things I have NEVER felt before…..and SAY things I would have never said out loud_. His hands tenderly grasped the blond's injured hand now as his fingers softly caressed it. "God, Justin," he murmured fervently, his eyes never leaving the other man's. "I've just spent the worst two weeks of my entire fucking life thinking you were gone forever," he told the other man, his voice breaking. "How could you possibly think I wouldn't want you here _now?_" Thinking maybe his partner really meant here – in their _bed_ – he added, "I don't fucking CARE whether I sleep here or on the couch or on the fucking _floor_." Actually, he _did _- the thought of having to sleep in the same place without being able to somehow touch his partner, to keep affirming that he _really_ WAS here – was too hard to contemplate.

"Just don't go," he entreated. He wasn't above pleading at the moment, if he HAD to. Brian looked down at their intertwined hands, his heart beating faster in response to the contact. Softly, almost silently, he added, "I _need_ you here, Justin. Okay?" He pursed his lips together firmly. _I am NOT going to cry like some drama queen. That is NOT what he needs right now. _For the moment, he would put _Justin's_ needs above his own. That didn't mean, however, that he wanted him to GO. _Please, Justin_.

Time stretched out silently for several seconds, the only sound coming from the twin breathing of the couple on the bed. Brian continued to slowly rub circles on Justin's hand in a half-pleading, half comforting motion. His heart broke a little, though, as he heard Justin finally sigh and whisper, "I…..don't want to be a _burden_ on you, Brian. I can't really imagine what you must have gone through the past two weeks, but I DO _care _about you; it's just that I may _never _be able to return the same feelings you have for me. Are you _prepared_ for that? Is it even fair to _ask_ that of you?" The light blue eyes were sparkling but not with happiness; they were shining with unshed tears of guilt, sadness, nervousness and fear.

How to answer that question? WAS Brian prepared for that possibility? As much as he wanted to say they would find their way back one way or the other, deep down he knew it may not happen. Despite all of his efforts, and insistence that they would forge a new path if necessary, Justin was right. The key was going to be _his partner_. If he had to, could Brian make Justin fall in love with him all over again? Did he have a choice? NO – not if he wanted the only man he ever loved to reciprocate his feelings. He was NOT going to give up – not NOW.

"Justin." He turned to look his partner in the eyes – eyes that were worried, regretful, and guilty over something he had had no control over. "You just returned home. You're just starting to make your way back……and I _LOVE_ you, damn it! You are NOT a fucking burden. You are my _partner_. Partners support each other – that's what they do. And I intend to do just that. I'm not giving up on us – I fucking _can't_. And I won't let you, either. Not until we give it everything we've got. Now I don't want to hear another word about you being a burden, or being fucking _sorry_……okay?" He peered over at Justin, a challenging look in his eyes. His eyebrows raised, his waited for an acknowledgement from the other man, a confirmation that he believed that Brian didn't want him to go _anywhere_.

Justin let out a long sigh, partly from relief and partly from still lingering feelings of culpability, however misplaced. He was convinced Brian really _did_ want him here; but when everything was said and done, if he couldn't return his feelings, he was going to feel guilty as hell, whether deserved or not. "Okay, Brian," he responded softly, as he heard Brian let out a breath he had been holding. "I told you before I was willing and I still am. What do we do _first_?"

_Fuck you into the bed, kiss you, hold you, and never let you out of my sight ever again_. Brian felt the words lingering unspoken – he couldn't help it. Being so close to his lover and not being able to touch him the way he wanted to was _killing_ him. But he wasn't going to be the recipient of some pity fucking; no matter how willing he might be to actually allow it. When they made love again, it would be a _mutual_ decision.

"I wasn't really going to get into this until tomorrow morning," Brian began hesitantly as Justin looked at him in puzzlement. It was too late now, though; Justin had asked him and he was going to be truthful with him, as much as he suspected his partner wasn't going to like it. "I think our first step should be for you to be thoroughly checked out by your first neurologist here in Pittsburgh."

As he suspected, that idea generated a vehement protest. "Why, Brian?" the blond questioned sharply, pulling his hand away from the brunet's. "I was checked out from head to toe by the doctors in Harrisburg and they couldn't give me any straight answers! What makes you think the doctors _here_ would be any different? I've already had two MRIs, x-rays and specialists buzzing around me like I was some fucking honey pot! What good will _that _do?"

_Still stubborn as before, Sunshine_. He wasn't going to back down, though. "Well, first of all, it'll give me some peace of mind that everything that _can_ be done IS being done. And second of all, you are aware you had a previous head injury. I won't really go into all the details about what happened – not right now. But just suffice it to say that you suffered an extremely violent hit to the head and the first neurologist knows all about it. He knows what your head injury looked like then and can compare it to what your brain looks like NOW. He treated you for several months immediately after the injury and has seen you as well for regular follow-ups for the past few years to make sure there have been no lingering effects. To me, Dr. Keller is the expert on your condition, NOT some fly-by-night doctor in Harrisburg."

"You mean _Andrew_," Justin said, not really asking the question. He knew the other man was a major thorn in Brian's side, whether deserved or not. To Justin, the man had been nothing but supportive during the two weeks he was recovering; he understood Brian's dislike of the man, but he really did not deserve Brian's suspicion or contempt, however understandable.

"Not just Bradley," Brian maintained, although admittedly enough the man definitely left a bad taste in his mouth. "I mean _any_ of those doctors, Justin," he insisted. "None of them know your medical history as well as Dr. Keller. And _none_ of them had any of your old diagnostic results or medical records to fall back on. Dr. Keller can obtain copies of the new tests and exams that were done on you and provide a better opinion about your diagnosis." He sighed, trying hard to make Justin understand that his motives were driven by what he thought was best for _him_, and not some sneaky attempt to keep his partner away from his former benefactor.

Justin looked at Brian intently. As much as he _hated_ the idea of going back to ANY hospital so soon after his other stay, he had no reason not to believe that Brian had his best interests at heart. After all, he made no bones about the fact that he wanted his partner back with him completely, in body as well as spirit. Perhaps, then, he thought grudgingly, it was for the best.

"Okay, Brian," Justin decided. "I'll go back to the hospital with you. But just for tests – I am NOT going to allow them to admit me." He shuddered; Michelle and Andrew had been very kind to him, but he was NOT going to stay in another hospital again so soon after he had had to endure all the poking and prodding that occurred while he was in the other hospital. He had seen more than enough lately of antiseptic beige hospital walls and smelled more than his share of the medicinal, gagging odors of the emergency room unit.

Brian smiled, relieved that Justin was at least agreeing to it. Hopefully, Dr. Keller would be able to shed light on what they could do to stimulate Justin's memory. "Good," he told his partner, smiling in encouragement. "I'll call him first thing tomorrow and get you set up for an appointment. That will give him time to get the records from the other hospital before he sees you."

"Okay," Justin agreed as he couldn't help a yawn escaping. His mind was still churning with everything that had happened today, but his body was screaming for rest.

Brian didn't let his partner's sleepy reaction escape him. "You need to get some sleep, Justin," he advised the blond sternly. It was only 10:00 – very early for when they would normally retire for the night, at least to _sleep_. Unfortunately, right now that was going to be the _only_ activity being accomplished in their bed. Which brought them to an awkward moment – where was he going to sleep? He knew where he _wanted_ to sleep – but the question was would Justin allow that as well? From the very beginning, they had always been so adept at revealing their feelings for each other by the way they touched, and the way they looked at each other. How did they go from being so tactile and demonstrative to a situation where he felt like they were virgin fags on their wedding night? He bit back a frustrated sigh as he resolved to accept whatever Justin was comfortable with, as much as it almost physically pained him to think of them being apart.

The tension was palpable as Brian warred with the right thing to do; finally thinking that maybe he should just take the initiative and remove any hint of indecisiveness and nervousness from his partner's mind, he briefly placed his hand on the blond's slender shoulder, squeezing it before whispering, "Well, good night, then, Justin – get some sleep." He grudgingly rose from the bed so he could look for the extra bedding for the couch. Justin had certainly had enough turmoil for the day; he didn't need any other quandaries weighing on his mind. Hating the idea, but nonetheless resolved to do anyway it for Justin's sake, he was about to walk over to the closet to look on the top shelf when he heard Justin asking him in a confused tone, "What are you _doing?" _

Brian turned to see Justin looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Was it confusion? Could it be hurt? He wasn't sure. Inexplicably feeling unsure of himself – a distinctly foreign emotion for him in most situations – he explained, "I'm looking for the extra blankets and pillow for the couch."

"Why?" It was a simple, one-word question but it involved a much longer explanation.

"I…..I thought you might be more comfortable sleeping by yourself," Brian told him hesitantly, even though he fucking _hated_ the idea. The bed and couch had never seemed as far away from each other until right now. Now it might as well have been 100 _miles_ away. One _inch_ was too far away as far as Brian was concerned.

Brian's heart leapt, however, when Justin responded. He saw Justin biting his lip nervously, shyly as he softly answered, "I…..I was hoping you would stay with me. I…..I still get these nightmares at night. And not knowing what they mean makes them even _scarier_." He shook his head in annoyance with himself, his embarrassment clearly shown on his face before he looked down at his hands in his lap. "I don't want to kick you out of your bed in either case. If you don't want to…..uh, stay here _with_ me, _I_ should go sleep on the couch, NOT you."

Brian did not give his partner a chance to even TRY that. _No way, Sunshine_. "NO, Justin," he reassured him, trying with difficulty to make his voice more nonchalant that he felt; inside his heart was beating furiously with anticipation. "It's a big bed. We can both sleep in it." _Even though it may be the most difficult, fucking thing I've EVER done_. He looked over at Justin, who was chewing anxiously on his thumbnail as his eyes intently followed his every movement. His partner was still fully clothed in a long-sleeved tee shirt and blue jeans; the only part of his clothing he had discarded were his shoes, which had been kicked off and were strewn on the wooden floor.

Brian nodded, not trusting his voice to actually say anything further for the time being. "I'll be right back, then," he assured him as he stepped down into the living room/kitchen area to turn off the rest of the lights. The partially-full moon helped to illuminate the bedroom after he had extinguished all of the artificial light; only the orange glow from the overhead track lighting in the bedroom remained. He slowly treaded over to the bedroom and to his bed – the bed currently holding his heart's most cherished possession. Making a somewhat spontaneous decision, he pushed his shoes off his feet and slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt, walking over with it to the closet to carefully hang it up. It wasn't that he was necessarily worried at the moment about hanging the damn shirt up; truthfully, he was stalling for time. Time to slow his heartbeat down to a more reasonable, casual beat so Justin couldn't tell how excited he was to have him back here alive and in their bed. Once again, he looked over at the blond vision now lying on the bed and glancing back at him. _Someone_, _somewhere_ must have thought his life was worth something to have gifted him with this miracle; from this day forward, he wasn't going to take anything for granted ever again.

He decided to risk removing his pants as well; the linen fabric of the dress pants would definitely not make for comfortable sleeping attire. As his pulse raced and his heart kept beating furiously, however, he realized the futility of actually thinking he would be _able to sleep_. Who was he fooling? How could he possibly sleep when the man he loved, he man he longed to hold and never let go, was back in their bed and in his life again? The thought was so exhilarating he knew he couldn't possibly get any sleep. If he had really wanted to sleep, he would have taken Justin up on his offer and let him sleep on the couch. But there was no fucking way he was going to do that.

Justin couldn't help staring at Brian as the brunet almost shyly took his shirt and pants off; the man was _gorgeous_. A tanned torso that wasn't overly muscular, but firm and toned. He had the perfect dimensions over his entire body, from his muscled shoulders to his classically-sculptured hands and down to his long legs. And the cock. Under the snug briefs, it didn't take much of an imagination to see that Brian was well-endowed. Justin flushed at the sight of this magnificently-looking man who had haunted his most vivid dreams for the past two weeks. He decided, as his face darkened to a deep shade of pink, that even the stunning visions his mind had conjured up didn't quite do the real image justice. _Oh, my God. _He wondered how he had gotten so lucky as to capture the love and the heart of someone like this man.

Brian couldn't help being pleased with his partner's reaction to his disrobing; he was glad to see that while Justin may not have remembered him in his mind, his _body_ apparently still did. For a few moments, he was tempted to smash the blond's lithe, familiar body down on the mattress and fuck him senseless until he was _forced_ to remember. Shaking his head in disgust, however, at the thought of pushing himself on his partner, he pasted on just a hint of a reassuring smile as he returned to the bed side and slowly pulled the duvet cover back from his side to slide in. As he lay on his back, he briefly risked closingd his eyes, relishing the realization that Justin was _here_, _alive_; it was the first time he had dared to turn away from staring at his partner since he had first laid eyes on him earlier today. God, had it just been this _morning?_ In a way, it seemed like an eternity now. But it would take much more than an eternity to ever get tired of looking at him.

"Brian?" came the nearby whisper. As Brian quickly opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Justin, his breath caught in his throat. He was actually _here – alive – back with him in their bed_. Would he ever tire of saying that? Probably not, because he knew what it was like _not _to be able to say it. And he wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even his most-hated enemies. The pain had been damn near unbearable. He never wanted to ever go through anything like that again. He _couldn't._

"Yeah, Sunshine?" he asked his partner, noticing a look of uncertainty on the beautiful but fragile face. "What is it?" His heart stopped for a few seconds and he held his breath. Was Justin regretting his decision to stay with him?

"Brian…..Would you…….._hold _me?" Brian was unaccustomed to hearing the unexpected, almost bashful plea coming from his partner's lips; Justin had never had any problems before asking him for _any_ type of physical contact; in fact, he normally didn't say anything at all – he just _did _it, because as he so often liked to point out to him, he was _always _in the mood for sex. But as he soberly reminded himself, this was _not_ a normal occasion, because for Justin, he was still a relative stranger. How odd that sounded right now. But it was sadly the truth. It beat the alternative, though, any day, and his partner had just asked him to _hold_ him. It was more than Brian had hoped for tonight – it was a _start_. The hardest part was being able to _stop_ it before things got carried away.

How could he possibly say no, though, to _that_ request? Fuck, yeah, he would hold him! "Come over here," he said softly in that oh-so-tempting voice he had, as he pulled the duvet back from his shivering body. His body was shaking, only it wasn't because he was cold. On the contrary, he body was warming rapidly at the thought of holding the man he loved and thought had been gone forever in his arms again.

Anxiously, he turned on his side to face his partner and held his free arm out to him in a welcoming invitation. He would have preferred to feel skin on skin – God, how he wished he could right now. Justin still had his tee shirt and jeans on, however; for now, though, it was enough. He watched through heavily-lidded eyes as Justin rolled on the bed to free up the duvet cover underneath him before he slowly, painstakingly scooted ever closer to the brunet.

Brian couldn't take his eyes off Justin as he slowly came nearer and nearer. The brunet smiled at him encouragingly, his heart pounding in his chest. Justin returned his smile with a shy one of his own before he leaned in and his body finally made contact with the brunet's. Brian let out an audible, rejoiceful sigh as their two bodies melded lightly together and Justin tentatively slid his arm around his waist. "Oh, God," Brian couldn't help saying as he felt their first moment of contact as they lay together in their bed. It had been so long………_so long_. "Justin," he whispered lovingly, as he, too, snaked his arm tenderly around the slender, pale middle. His partner's skin felt as warm as soft as he had remembered it; his unique, sweet smell was still there, still Justin.

Despite Brian's adamant belief that he couldn't possibly get any sleep with Justin back in his bed, he found out he was wrong. Because the moment he felt the warm body and the quickly beating heart of his lover back in his arms, the soft, blond head resting on his chest where it had lain so often in the past, his entire body relaxed as if he had been given the best tranquilizer in the world. In fact, he had. And for the first time in two weeks, Brian Kinney slept soundly in peace.


	29. Chapter 29:  Three's a Crowd?

_Brian's Loft - Friday Morning_

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand." There was a pregnant pause for a few seconds. "I'm glad you agree with me, though." Another momentary silence occurred before the voice responded, "No, I won't. This is too fucking important."

The hushed tones of a man having an apparent conversation on the phone with someone gradually seeped into Justin's consciousness as he slowly awoke from his slumber. For a few seconds, the blond tried to get his bearings on where he was; he sat up in the bed and observed the modern, ultra-chic bedroom furnishings. This was definitely NOT Andrew's apartment. Finally, as he fully awakened, he realized he was back in Pittsburgh, in the loft that Brian owned. In the bed the two of them had shared last night; and in the bed they had no doubt shared numerous times before. Only from the vivid dreams Justin had had over the past two weeks, he knew they hadn't used the bed for just _sleeping_ like they did last night.

As Justin lay there in the folds of his partner's luxurious sateen sheets and plush, satin duvet, his face flushed as he thought about just what _types_ of dreams he had been having about his partner. Last night, while Brian held him almost possessively in his arms, had been no exception. The dreams were extremely vivid, passionate, and sensual, sometimes gentle, sometimes downright rough and dirty. Now that he could see the man up close and barely clothed, he knew his dreams were pretty damn accurate; the man was _beautiful_ in a classic sort of way – lean torso, toned but not overly muscled, tanned legs and arms, long fingers that were no doubt very talented in giving pleasure. And the _eyes_ – the intense looks he was giving Justin when he thought the blond wasn't looking were hot enough to burn right through him. He noticed the eyes were sometimes light brown with flecks of gold; at other times they were more of a golden-green. Then sometimes, when Brian was more emotional and trying to get a certain point across, the eyes were a large, deep, and expressive chocolate brown. Justin could tell easily that Brian felt deeply about him; he just wish he could reciprocate the same intense feelings for _him_. He closed his eyes in frustration. Brian, as well as Andrew and pretty much everyone _else_ he had spoken to, had repeated that he needed to give it _time_. Was that going to be the ultimate solution? It was pretty obvious, even to him, that time might not be enough. What then? Again, that question reverberated through his head….._What then? What then?_

Brian closed his cell phone softly after speaking to Alex. He thought perhaps the man who had helped him figure out a way to assist Justin right after the prom bashing could help him now. The situation was a little different this time, though – Justin wasn't exactly shying away from physical contact, thank goodness. In fact, last night Brian's heart was thumping wildly after Justin had asked him to simply _hold_ him. Who would have thought he would have been satisfied with just that? But, God, it had felt _so GOOD. So fucking GOOD. _Brian had wrapped his arms around Justin's waist and hadn't let go of the man until he had awakened 10 hours later. He had slept the slumber of the dead, which was kind of ironic, now that he thought about it, because he had slept so well due to Justin being very much _alive_.

Despite Alex being a well-known psychologist, he was the first to admit he wasn't an expert when it came to memory loss; in fact, Brian was beginning to wonder if _anyone_ was. It seems this was one of the few areas of science that little was known about. Well, Justin was going to be an exception to whatever rule says you can't recapture what you had lost. Brian had almost lost _everything_, or so he had thought; he wasn't even going to consider the possibility that his partner would never recover his memory – _all of it._ It had taken him years to finally admit how he felt about Justin; if it took a while for his partner to regain his memory, he was prepared to wait it out. He just hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

He glanced over at the closed partitions of the bedroom wall, wondering if Justin was still asleep. He had hated like hell to leave their bed; Justin's steady breathing had been like the greatest fucking lullaby he had ever heard. Everything had been so sweetly, achingly familiar and yet almost like it was new all over again; his smell, his feel – the warmth, the softness, the golden, shining hair – the way his body had automatically molded itself so perfectly against his. As Brian had held the slim, petite body to him so firmly and felt the soft breaths on his chest, his mind had churned with so many mixed emotions – elation, relief, gratitude, fear of the unknown future and just a little disbelief. He found himself in such an unbelievable position right now – his body craving so much more, and yet his mind telling him not yet – not just yet. For a man used to fucking several times a day, and only now with one certain blond in particular – his current situation was almost unbearable. He huffed out a breath of frustration. Maybe he'd have to find a way to go the gym – or buy another treadmill. _Anything_ to work off some of this sexual tension. He chided himself – _don't be so fucking selfish, Kinney_.

"Brian?" The subject of his thoughts quietly appeared by the bedroom wall; hair tousled from bed, still wearing the long-sleeved tee and jeans from last night. Brian thought he had never looked more wonderful then he did just now.

"You're awake," Brian observed dumbly, thinking how intelligent a statement that must have sounded like. "Did I wake you?" He had tried to be as quiet as he could when he had spoken to Alex, not wanting to wake Justin up after the tumultuous day they had both had yesterday. Without his memory being intact, and for all intents and purposes meeting his mother for the first time, it had to have been even more confusing for his partner.

Justin shook his head. "No," he assured him, although it was only partly the truth. He was semi-conscious when he had heard Brian speaking, but the telephone conversation had fully awakened him. "Were you on the phone?" he asked curiously. It was only a little after 7:00 – still a little too early to be making most phone calls. He worried that it was something serious.

As Justin walked over to join Brian on the couch, they sat a few feet apart as Brian confirmed, "Yeah. I was speaking to a friend of mine who's actually a psychologist – Alex. He had helped me before when you were injured with some suggestions for your treatment and I thought I'd ask his advice."

"I had a memory lapse before?" This was the first Justin had heard about that; he knew from what Brian had told him in the car that he had sustained an injury to approximately the same part of his head that he had damaged in the train accident, but this was the first revelation that his memory had been affected, then, too.

"Yeah," Brian confirmed; he had vowed he was not going to lie to Justin or make false promises about his condition and it included previous circumstances as well. "It wasn't as severe or as comprehensive as this, though," he added.

"How much of my memory did I lose? And did I get it back?" Justin pressed; he thought he must have succeeded in recouping it, however, because the two of them were still together. He was surprised, then, when Brian shook his head sadly. "No?" he asked him, confused.

Brian actually looked crestfallen as well as a little angry as he explained what had happened at Justin's prom and how his head injury had occurred. "You never did remember what happened that night," he told him sorrowfully. "At least about the prom itself," he clarified. "You remembered just a little about what happened in the garage, and maybe just a few seconds of when I first came into the room, but that's all."

"That's what you talked to your friend Alex about?" Justin asked, looking over intently at the other man, who had an undeniable look of pain on his face as he recalled the events of that wonderful, then absolutely horrible, night. Justin was sorry to hear he had not regained all of his memory; he wondered if that was an omen of what was to come _this_ time.

"Some of it," Brian responded softly. He hesitated as he recalled what Jennifer had been so concerned about back then; he can still remember how hard it had been for her to give him control over her son. At that time, she did not trust at all that he would do right by Justin, but her love for him and her need for him to get better outweighed her concerns. "After the bashing, you sort of retreated into yourself. You were so angry – at Hobbs, at the world, at your physical limitations. You didn't really want to be around anyone then, much less let anyone touch you. Your mother was afraid you would never really revert to anything resembling who you used to be." He smiled a little. "According to your mom, you did a fairly decent job of trashing your bedroom back then. No _wonder_ she wanted to get rid of you."

Justin frowned, even though he knew by Brian's expression and tone of voice he was kidding about the _getting rid of him_ part. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"She was at her wit's end about how to help you," he explained, thinking back to how reluctant he was to hear her plea and help her. At the time he had feared he might actually do more harm than good with Justin; he didn't have a clue what would happen or what would be the best course to take. But even Jennifer knew back then that he and Justin had something special, a bond that no one else had with her son. And somehow she instinctively knew that only Brian could help bring Justin back to some semblance of his old self. She had been right. And damn it – he was going to do it _again_, he vowed silently to himself. "She asked me to help you," he said aloud now. "She…..somehow knew that I could, even if I didn't realize it myself at the time," he admitted a little reluctantly. He looked down at his hands which were firmly clasped together. "After what happened…..you not only put up a wall to protect yourself, you….wouldn't let anyone touch you. Mentally _or_ physically."

Justin studied the brunet intently as he continued to avoid his glance, surmising what Brian was trying to say. "But _you _found a way, didn't you?" he asked him softly.

The side of Brian's mouth twisted a little into a half-boast, half-confession. "Yeah," he revealed, his voice barely above a whisper as he thought back to that night after Gus' birthday party – the night Justin had finally allowed him to break through his shell completely. The night they had _made love_. It was definitely not just fucking – although that would certainly come back soon afterward, and with a wicked vengeance. How ironic now, then, that they were even _having_ this discussion, he thought pensively, as a thick, awkward silence settled upon them while Justin thought over what Brian had said.

Justin wanted to tell Brian how sorry he was for having to put him through this, apparently all over again, only this time it was far worse. But Brian had made him promise yesterday that he would quit apologizing to him for his memory loss. He knew it wasn't his fault that it had happened, but he still felt terrible about it. He also knew, though, that it wouldn't help to keep dwelling on it, and he _had_ promised his partner. Biting his lip, then, he replied, "It sounds like you seem to know what to do to help me when no one else _does_."

Brian shook his head almost modestly. "Maybe," he accepted graciously. "But a lot of it is just plain, dumb luck. At least it was back then," he explained. "Now, I guess it might be more instinct and just knowing what you're like and how you react. I mean, we've certainly had our ups and downs, but we've known each other now for over 6 years. You learn a lot about a person in that amount of time. I'm hoping that knowledge will do some good _now_." He looked over now at Justin with a slight smile of encouragement, not sure if it was for the other man or for _him_.

Justin thankfully chose to change the subject back to the present instead of concentrating on that terrible part of their past. "So what did your friend suggest?" he asked curiously. He was anxious to find out what this professional thought about his condition; so far, he hadn't really spoken to an actual psychologist; the doctors had either been emergency room physicians, like Andrew, radiologists, or neurologists. They were good at interpreting results and treating the physical symptoms, but not so good at delving into what might be best for his internal memory loss.

"Well, he was clear about one thing – he feels it's crucial that you check in with Dr. Keller, your old neurologist that saw you the first time. He agrees with me that it's important, too, that Dr. Keller obtains all the medical records and diagnostic reports from not only Harrisburg but also the urgent care center you told me you went to here in Pittsburgh, because they did another MRI there, didn't they?" he asked Justin.

As the blond nodded to confirm, he continued. "He also thinks it might be helpful to expose you to more parts of your life as a possible trigger, kind of like the first time you were injured." As Justin looked at him questioningly, he explained, "It didn't quite work out the way we had hoped – you still didn't remember everything back then – but it _did _help you to be more comfortable with being touched and held again." The two partners were so unaccustomed to the awkwardness that was hanging like a heavy fog in the room; once again, there was the proverbial elephant's presence – both men wanting the same thing, but unsure of the path to get there. One man yearning, physically _aching_ to touch his partner the way he wanted to so badly – to make mad, passionate love to him endlessly, to whisper words of encouragement to him, to deepen the bond they already felt so strongly; and the other man – damaged, fragile, and unaware of just how strong the depth of his feelings should be for this man who was trying so urgently to help him, to help _them_.

"Brian….." Justin didn't really know what to say; he wasn't going to apologize again. He knew that was not what Brian wanted and the man was growing weary of Justin feeling guilty. It would be so easy to just succumb to his physical attraction to the other man – he was smart, damn sexy, charming in an almost vulnerable sort of way, and obviously in love with him. So why not just let his memory be damned, get it over with and just have sex with this beautiful man? Maybe because in a warped sort of way he felt he owed Brian more than that. He owed their _relationship_ more than that. Fucking would be the easy way out; it wouldn't solve anything and it just might make things more complicated. He didn't want to give Brian false hope that just because they were having sex it meant everything was back to the way he was wanting it to be.

Brian looked over at Justin expectantly, waiting patiently to listen to what he wanted to say. Right now, he couldn't get enough of just hearing him _speak_. "Where do we go from here, Brian?" he asked him simply.

Brian had already given that same question a lot of thought; that was part of the reason why he had called Alex so early this morning. He didn't want to waste one minute trying to find a solution so the two of them could find their way back to how they used to be. "I'm going to call Alleghany General Hospital in a little while and try to get a hold of Dr. Keller," he told his partner. "I think the first step is for you to go and talk to him, so he can give us some guidance on what to do."

He was glad to see Justin nod his head in agreement. "Okay," the blond answered him; he was as anxious to recover his life as Brian was – he just wasn't sure how easy it was going to be. "I think that would be a good start, too."

"Good," Brian replied, relieved. Apart from that, he thought the next logical step would be for Justin to be exposed to as many of his friends and familiar places as possible; if the worst happened, and he never regained his previous memories, at least they could make some _new_ ones – together. What he had to do was figure out the best way to do that.

Before he had a chance to formulate their plan of action, however, Brian was startled by his cell phone ringing; he had turned it off last night, not wanting for them to be disturbed. Now, as he glanced at the caller ID to see who would be calling him so early, he wasn't totally surprised to see who it was. After all, Brian had spent the night in his loft for the first time in almost two weeks.

"Finally!" an annoyed but concerned voice said as soon as Brian said hello. "Where the _hell_ are you? I was fucking _worried _about you! Where have you _been_?"

Brian shook his head and rolled his eyes as he looked over at Justin nearby. "I'm _fine_, Mikey," he assured his friend. "In fact, you might say I'm doing fucking _fantastic."_

Michael frowned over at Ben, who was sitting with him at the kitchen table; as soon as Michael had awakened earlier and noticed Brian had never come back to their house, he was instantly worried. He knew Brian wouldn't go back to the loft because of all the memories of Justin there, and he didn't come back to his house. Had he had spent the night at Kinnetik? Even if he HAD, that wouldn't explain the man's 180-degree turnabout in attitude. There could only be one explanation. "Brian…..what did you _take?"_

Brian huffed; why did everyone automatically assume that just because he was feeling so good right now, he was on some kind of _drug?_ Although, he supposed he could understand why. His world had come crashing down after Justin had "died." He could understand, then, why both Michael and Jennifer would make that assumption; it was Brian's normal form of pain management.

"I didn't _take_ ANYTHING for your information, Michael," Brian retorted a little sharply. Justin's expression at that statement was to narrow his eyebrows and stare at him, perplexed. In his current state, he had no idea of Brian's past method for either controlling his pain or forgetting about it altogether; the Brian Kinney he had seen so far seemed too intent on producing results to be concerned with clouding his judgement in that manner.

"Okay," Michael rolled out slowly, the doubt clearly evident in his voice. Brian had suddenly gone from being totally bereft with grief to feeling _fantastic?_ What other reason could there _be_? He sounded too sober to be strung out on Beam. "I'm….._glad_ to hear you're feeling better. Care to tell me why?"

Brian's eyes remained on Justin as he considered what to tell his friend. Perhaps it was time to start the next part of his plan. "Actually….l'd rather _show _you," he replied vaguely, at least it sounded that way to Michael. "Could you come over to the loft this morning?" Brian had already decided he was not going into Kinnetik today; now that he had Justin back relatively healthy, he wasn't letting him out of his sight for now.

Michael was certain now that Brian had to be spaced out on _something_. The way his friend had reacted to even the thought of stepping foot back in his loft where he and Justin had spent so much time together had been physically nauseating to him. Short of being handcuffed and dragged there forcibly, Michael couldn't imagine any other way the man would go back there. At least if he came over, however, he could find out for himself just what condition Brian was in. After trying several years ago to hang from the rafters with a scarf, and after recently smashing his hand against their bathroom mirror after Justin had died, there was no telling _what_ Brian might consider doing.

He made up his mind quickly. "I'm coming right over," he announced, as Ben pondered just what was going on. "Don't go anywhere." _Or do anything STUPID_.

"I'll be here," Brian reassured him, smiling a little, "Oh, and bring the little professor. He might as well be in on this, too." He could take care of two of Justin's friends in one shot. Michael didn't know what he was about to encounter; there would be no way to prepare him for _this_.

"What was _that _all about?" Ben asked his husband as he peered up from under his glasses from the paper he was reviewing. He noticed Michael's look of total confusion as he hung up the phone with Brian. "Where _is _he?"

"I don't get it," Michael told him flatly. "He's…..at the _loft_. He swore he wouldn't set foot there ever again and was about to have it listed with Jennifer for sale. Now he tells me he's over there right now and he's feeling _fantastic? _This is fucking strange. He's _got_ to be high on something, only he didn't _sound_ like it." He shook his head, confused. It didn't add up at all. "Oh, and he wants you and me to come over right away to the loft. Says he has something to _show us_. What the _hell_ is going on?"

Ben grimaced. "With Brian, you never know." He turned his wrist over to look at his watch. "I've got a couple hours before my first class today. You think we should go?"

"Are you kidding?" Michael answered. "This is _Brian_ we're talking about – Mr. Unpredictable. I can't for the life of me figure out what he's up to, but I think we'd better find out." He stood up and reached in his pants pocket for the car keys. "We'd better go find out exactly what's going on."

* * *

"Your friend Michael's coming over _here_?" Justin asked his partner somewhat nervously, as Brian snapped his cell phone shut. Justin knew he should know all these people, DID know them somewhere in his mind, but right now they were all just a big jumble, even his mother. _Shit_.

Brian nodded; he hoped he was doing the right thing by telling Michael and Ben to come over. It wasn't as if he could keep Justin's miraculous survival a secret for very long; he couldn't very well keep him locked up in the loft, although he had fleetingly thought about it. "Is that all right?" he asked his partner; after all, this was all about his recovery. He should have the final say in how he undertook it.

Justin searched the other man's eyes, so sincere but also so concerned….about what was best for _him_. He bit his lower lip. It made him both excited but nervous at the thought of meeting yet another person who he was supposed to know. How many times would he go through this with no breakthrough? How many times before he would have to admit defeat? No, he decided. He was _not_ going to think that way. He had to think positively. Noticing that Brian was still looking at him for an answer, he whispered, "Yeah, it's okay," he reassured him. Inside, however, a whole room of butterflies was fluttering around in his stomach, though. How would Brian's best friend react to his return? "Brian….."

"Yes, Justin?"

"Tell me more…. about Michael…..and Ben." Brian had told him a little bit about his best friend, but he wanted to know as much as he could about the man who had grown up with his partner. Maybe by learning more about Brian's closest friend, he could learn more about himself, too. After all, they both had Brian in common.

For the next several minutes, Brian revealed to Justin how the two of them had met when they were teens, about their high school years, including several pranks they had pulled, mainly on school staff, and eventually how they had wound up where they were – still good friends but each with their own focus on their individual interests and partners. The entire time Brian was telling him, Justin felt a sense of dread inside – not because he was about to meet the man who was Brian's best friend and who had eventually become a friend of Justin's as well, but because he didn't remember _any_ of it. Not a fucking bit of it. He tried hard to suppress a frustrated sigh, once again, but he was only half successful.

Brian noticed his partner's discomfort, as well as the sorrowful look on his face as he spoke. "None of this sounds familiar to you, does it?" he whispered understandingly, struggling to keep his own disappointment in check. Each time he told Justin more about his past life, and each time he failed to get a flicker of recognition from him, his own optimism wavered just a little more.

Justin shook his head to verify that Brian was correct. He had a feeling even if he had lied, Brian would have still known the truth. "Not _any_ of it."

Brian nodded and gave him a slight, encouraging smile. He reached over and squeezed his hand briefly as Justin's smaller fingers curled around his hand seeking comfort. "I thought so. Look – I can call Michael back on his cell and tell him now's not a good time."

Justin shook head firmly. "No," he replied emphatically. "The sooner I become reacquainted with the people who know me, the sooner I can recover." _IF I recover,_ he couldn't help thinking.

Several minutes later the sound of the door buzzer startled them; Brian gave Justin's hand one more quick squeeze before he rose from the couch and walked over to the door intercom. "Come on up," he instructed, pressing the button. He turned to look at Justin, still sitting on the couch. "Why don't you stay there?" he suggested; he really had no idea how to proceed with this reunion, or any of the others for that matter. The Brian Kinney operating manual had never had a chapter on how to broach the subject of your partner coming back from the dead. He suspected, however, that no one would care after they saw Justin.

Brian stood by the door as he heard the familiar whine of the elevator motor signaling an impending arrival; several seconds later, there was a knock at the door. When he swung it open, he wasn't sure who was the most surprised: himself, or the person who was on the other side.

The visitor came bursting through the door like a flashy cyclone before Brian could react, issuing an indignant staccato of sentences without coming up for breath. "I couldn't believe it when Michael said you were over here – he was worried _sick_ about you, you know, you asshole!" The person continued to brush by Brian, walking over toward the kitchen as the brunet desperately tried to halt her progress. "I know you haven't been eating, so I thought I'd bring you over some las…" Brian almost ran smack into his visitor as the person stopped dead in her tracks and promptly dropped the glass casserole dish she was holding in her arms, shattering it into tiny, messy pieces on the wooden floor. "Oh, my GOD!" Debbie cried, her large eyes widening in total disbelief. She slapped her hands over her mouth and stood frozen to the spot, completely oblivious to the enormous mess she had just made. Her eyes were too focused instead on the instantly familiar, slender, blond man shrinking back and flinching on the couch seat upon hearing the earth-shattering sound of the casserole dish breaking on the hard wooden floor. "Oh, MY GOD!" she cried more softly this time as her eyes promptly filled with tears. She looked over at Brian and then back at Justin. _This couldn't be real. This is IMPOSSIBLE_. "No," she whispered, looking back at Brian again for some answer to what she was seeing. The normally flamboyant, boisterous redhead was for once in her life nearly speechless with shock.

"Ma?" Brian turned to see Michael and Ben standing in the open doorway, observing the unbelievable, catastrophic mess on the floor and his mother's look of total disbelief on her face. "Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?" The only thing Debbie could do was slowly raise her red-lacquered fingernail and point over at Brian's couch.

"Michael…"Ben began, gently nudging his husband's shoulder for attention as he looked over at the couch to see what Debbie was pointing at; Michael had been so worried about the odd look on her mother's face that he hadn't peered over there yet. "I think you'd better take a look over at the couch," he prodded him, a long of wonder on his own face.

Brian winced inwardly; this was _not_ the way he had expected Justin's return to play out. He had been hoping to announce his partner's miraculous survival gradually, NOT spring Debbie of all people on him unexpectedly. He rushed over to Justin's side as the blond slowly rose from his place on the couch and stood there uncertainly, not really knowing how to act or what to do. He noticed a look of apprehension on the beautiful, blond face. "Justin…."he began, placing a supportive hand on the blond's shoulder which felt tense and stiff.

As Brian spoke to Justin and placed his hand on his partner, Debbie finally realized what she was seeing wasn't some desperate, hopeful dream; it had to be _REAL_. She didn't understand _how_ but she knew now that she couldn't be imagining it – just seeing the same kind of look on her son's and Ben's faces was proof of that.

"H...How?" She finally managed to say softly, as all three of them continued to stand frozen with shock. "How is this _possible?"_ She finally found her footing as, the enormous mess in the kitchen promptly forgotten by everyone, she slowly began to inch toward the man she had come to regard as another son – a man she thought she would never see again. She saw Justin lick his lips nervously as he tentatively snaked his arm around Brian's waist for emotional support and the brunet's hand tightened around his slim shoulder.

Brian was determined not to spook his partner – this could prove to be too much, too soon. "Everyone – _sit down,_" he instructed in a commanding tone of voice. In a massive understatement, he told them, "There's a lot to tell you." He motioned with his free hand toward the chairs surrounding the couch. "Please…_SIT DOWN_." Ben gave Michael a slight push toward the living room as finally, all three visitors slowly sat down near the couch, their eyes never leaving the man who had apparently arose from the dead and was now staring back at them warily. It was now obvious that Justin was, indeed, right there, alive, but as of yet he hadn't uttered a single word.

Michael shook his head in disbelief; when Brian had told him he was at the loft and had to show him something, he never in a million years could have imagined it would have been _this_. He couldn't wait to hear how this miracle had happened. He raised his hands questioningly. In an echo of his mother's question, all he could get to escape from his lips was "How?"

Brian took his hand away from Justin's shoulder and gently grasped his hand to pull him down with him onto the couch. He clutched the blond's hand firmly; Justin was holding onto his so tightly he was threatening to lose circulation in the fingers. He endured it, however, because he knew Justin was feeling overwhelmed at the moment and he needed the emotional support.

"It's kind of a long story," Brian began, looking over at his partner and beginning to slowly rub reassuring circles on Justin's hand with his thumb. "But there _are_ some things you need to know. Obviously it goes without saying that Justin somehow survived the train crash in Harrisburg. I didn't find that out myself until yesterday when I had to visit there on business. I won't go into the details right now as to how I found out – that can be saved for another time – but what you all need to know is that Justin has suffered almost total memory loss of what happened before the accident." He heard Debbie gasp as he looked over at his friends almost apologetically. "That includes all of you." The three visitors exchanged looks of shock as well as pity as they stared over at Justin, whose eyes had filled with tears of regret and pain. "That's why I wanted you to come over," he said, indicating Michael and Ben. He smiled with chagrin as he told Debbie, "I wasn't expecting _you_, though." He smirked a little. "If I had known you were coming, I would have prepared Justin a little better for the _hurricane_."

To her credit, however, Debbie was remarkably subdued, at least compared to her normal demeanor. Her eyes, too, were filled with tears; partly due to pain over what Justin had to currently be going through, but more out of joy that he was back with them – _alive_. She shook her head and smiled through her tears as she leaned toward Justin and whispered to him, "_Sunshine...," _she said, her voice full of affection, "I can't tell you how _happy_ I am to see you. And I know that you will get all of your memory back – I just KNOW it."

Justin looked at her as a sudden snippet of a previous encounter flashed through his mind; a vision of this same woman wearing the same type of grateful, happy look telling him to _come and give him a hug_. He shook his head in frustration, however, as the memory left just as quickly as it came. "What is it, Justin?" Brian asked him, noticing the strange look on his partner's face that had arisen so suddenly.

Justin finally spoke up. "I…..I just had this vision." He was afraid to actually call it a memory for fear it would somehow jinx him from remembering anything further. He turned toward Debbie and looked at her intently as he added, "It was about you."

Debbie smiled, thrilled that Justin had apparently remembered something about her. "What was it about?" she asked him encouragingly, as the three men looked at the blond. Brian held his breath as Justin divulged, "You were telling me to _come and give you a hug_."

Debbie gasped and smiled in delight. "Yes!" she verified for him enthusiastically. "It was right after…." She hesitated and looked at Brian, not sure just how much to tell him about his past; the subject she was about to mention was definitely not a pleasant one.

"It's okay, Deb," Brian assured her. "He knows about the bashing," he explained, nodding at her to continue.

Debbie nodded. "It was a few months after your prom, Sunshine," she told Justin, still marveling at the miracle sitting in front of her, alive and breathing. "You had just come home after being in the hospital for treatment and I came over with my brother, Vic, to bring you and your mom some lunch. You were upstairs and I suddenly heard your voice as you came down to greet us. I was so happy to see you that I asked you to _come and give me a hug_." She didn't mention that Justin had shrunk back from her, just as he had done now, because she had spilled the marinara sauce all over the front of her shirt and Justin had mistaken it for blood. She realized how ironic it was that they were almost in the same situation _again_.

Brian felt his heart warm at Justin's remembrance of that event; it definitely proved that his mind had his memories locked in there _somewhere_. It would be up to him, his mom, his friends, and the doctors to try and extract them. "See?" he told his partner smiling a little in encouragement. "You remembered that," he pointed out.

Justin heaved a soft sigh and nodded; yes, he did. But that was just one, small, miniscule pebble of memory in an enormous ocean of remembrances. Just how many would he be able to remember eventually?

"Surely Justin has seen doctors since the accident," Ben stated sensibly. He looked over at Brian as if Justin was mute and couldn't speak for himself; somehow it seemed more logical to look at Justin's partner who was continuing to hold the blond's hand supportively rather than ask Justin directly.

"Yes, he has," Brian verified. "But they aren't sure what the best course of treatment is. They haven't worked on him before, though. I'm going to call his old neurologist this morning here in Pittsburgh and have him check Justin out and give his opinion. I trust his experience with Justin more than the doctors who just recently worked on him."

Debbie continued to stare at the fragile-looking man sitting closely next to Brian and leaning into his side. It was unfortunate that Justin had suffered such a horrible memory loss from his accident, but apparently he somehow knew that he and Brian shared a deep bond. She couldn't take her eyes off him, however; it was just too unbelievable after everyone thought he had died. But she silently thanked God that for Brian's sake, they had all been proven wrong. Without Justin, she was terrified about what would happen to his partner. Brian had never allowed his heart to be captured by anyone before Justin, and without him in his life, she had been afraid he would simply close himself off and never allow anyone else to touch his heart ever again. She was so thankful that she would not have to worry about that now. As she looked over at the brunet, she couldn't believe the changes that had occurred in him almost instantly. His face had regained a lot of its color and his stance was much more relaxed. But the biggest change was the eyes – the haunted, lost look that he had carried around for the past two weeks was dramatically replaced now by a rekindled, hopeful, and shining light that made the hazel orbs sparkle. _I never thought I would ever SEE that again_.

Now that the initial shock over seeing Justin had faded, she realized to her horror that she had made an unbelievable mess in Brian's kitchen. "Oh, shit!" she cried out, rising suddenly from her chair. "The _lasagna_! Where's the mop, honey?" she asked Brian as she rushed back into the kitchen and grabbed an entire roll of paper towels to begin to try and scoop up some of the mess she had made. "Fucking marinara sauce," she muttered, looking around frantically for a bucket and a mop.

_Marinara sauce_. Justin squeezed his eyes shut briefly as another flash of memory erupted. "That's the second time you've had an accident with the marinara sauce around me," Justin said impulsively as Debbie suddenly stopped what she was doing. She smiled over tenderly at him. "You're _right_," she verified, looking over hopefully at Brian, who smiled at her in delight at Justin's accurate recall of the event. "I had another run-in with marinara sauce the night I brought your dinner over after you were injured."

Michael rose from his chair and walked over to his mother, retrieving a bucket and mop from one of Brian's pantry cabinets. He reached over and gave his mom a quick kiss on the cheek before filling the bucket with water for her. She nodded in understanding and dunked the mop in the water to begin cleaning up the sticky, voluminous mess.

Brian's heart warmed as Justin remembered Debbie's previous accident. It proved once again that his memories were locked up in his mind somewhere and just needed the triggers to get out. Already he was seeing more promising signs that his recall was slowly, excruciatingly coming back to him. Maybe seeing three of his friends at once hadn't been such a bad idea after all. He made a mental note to make sure Daphne was next on the list; if anyone could help Justin remember his life for several years past, it would be her. And, besides, he knew Jennifer would be eager to share the miraculous, ecstatic news with her son's best friend.

Debbie wiped her hands on a kitchen towel as she dumped the last of the dirty mop water in the bathroom sink and finally got the kitchen back into some semblance of cleanliness.

"Deb, let the rest go," was Brian's surprising call. "The cleaning lady will be in soon. It's fine." Before all this had happened with Justin, Brian would have been aghast at the mess she had made on his floor and the cabinets. Somehow, though, in light of what he had just gained, it didn't seem quite so important anymore.

Debbie slowly walked back into the living area, still feasting her eyes on the miracle sitting on Brian's couch. She shook her head in amazement as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Jennifer," she stated. "Does Jennifer know? Brian…..What about _her?_ Someone needs to fucking TELL her."

Brian shook his head. "It's okay, Deb," he quickly reassured her. "Actually, she knows…..I called her last night and had her come over to the loft." Somewhat embarrassed, he admitted, "I asked her not to tell anyone else until Justin had a little more time to get better acclimated." Rather sheepishly, he added, "I thought it would be better not to spring everyone on him at once."

Debbie glared at him good naturedly, pointing an index finger at him. "You mean _ME_…..don't you?"

Brian uncharacteristically stammered at her intense stare, as Justin just glanced back and forth at the two of them with a certain amusement. Despite the holes in his memory, somehow he instinctively knew this type of bantering was commonplace among them. "Well….uh…..Okay! Yeah, I thought I needed to _prepare_ him a little for you." He had the decency to look down then. "Come on, Debbie….you _know_ what I mean." He looked over at Michael with a _help me_ sort of appeal; Michael simply grinned knowingly.

You gotta admit, Ma," he said to her. "You do have a way of making your presence _known_."

Debbie stood there with her hands on her hips and glared at her son. "And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" she prodded him. Justin continued to stare up from the couch, intrigued, as the verbal badminton match continued among the three of them. At least for the moment, he wasn't the center of attention.

"It's nothing _personal_, Deb," Ben told her smoothly, trying to come to his husband's defense. "It's just that someone with as big a presence as yours needs to have the proper…... _introduction_ that is deserving of them."

Debbie, thankfully, seemed somewhat appeased by the somewhat euphemistic explanation. "Well that's _better_," she retorted. "You'd think I was some fucking human _bulldozer_, the way everyone's talking." She turned to look at Justin. "I happen to _LOVE_ this kid just like he's one of my own…..I would _never_ do anything to hurt him." She decided to risk walking over and leaning down, placing a tender kiss on the blond's cheek as he smiled up at her. Despite his unfamiliarity with their shared past together, he decided he _liked_ this woman and he could trust her.

"I think it's time we leave these two men alone, boys," she commanded, as she reached down to pick up her purse from a nearby table. "They both look wiped out and Sunshine needs the rest." Brian looked at her, grateful that she had somehow read his mind. He was so relieved that Justin's encounter with them had gone relatively smoothly, but he continued to be concerned that his partner was being thrown too much, too soon. Until he could have Justin checked out by a doctor, and get reassurance as to his physical condition as well as his mental health, he wanted to err on the side of caution. Justin had been through enough in the last 24 hours.

Before she turned to go she reached over and gave Brian a hug, wrapping her plump arms tightly around his waist. "I'm so happy for you, Honey," she murmured to him tenderly, placing her face against his chest and hearing his heart beating rapidly; to her it sounded distinctly like a happy one. She knew his _face_ was certainly happier, now that the man he loved was back in his life. "He's going to be okay," she whispered to him, as she felt Brian's arms tighten around her and his head come to rest on top of her red-wigged hair. "You're _both_ going to be okay….I just know it." They stood that way for several seconds before Brian finally loosened his hold on her. He kept a gentle grasp on her upper arms as he simply whispered to her sincerely, "Thanks, Deb," and finally let her go.

Debbie turned to Justin one final time; she wanted to hug him, too – badly – but she was afraid of being too overly demonstrative with him. She finally settled for reaching over with her hand to gently caress his cheek briefly before whispering, "You take care of yourself, Sunshine. And I'll be back to see you – _count on it_." She started to walk away, but abruptly turned to look at him one more time to add, "And work on that _smile_. I didn't name you _Sunshine_ for NOTHING." Justin raised his eyebrows in amusement as she smiled at him and resumed her walk toward the door. "Boys?" she called.

Taking their cue, Ben and Michael rose together and walked over to Justin, who stood up at their approach. Ben reached over and grasped Justin's hand. "We're so glad for both you _and_ Brian to know you're _alive_," he told the blond, who smiled back at him politely. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask….okay?"

Justin nodded mutely, still a little shy around this quiet but friendly man. Michael stood next to his husband, still a little in shock over what they had discovered. He and Justin hadn't always seen eye to eye over the years, but they had come to an eventual, respectful friendship borne from trial and tribulation, as well as a mutual love for Brian, both in their own different way. And he was more thankful than Justin would ever know that Brian would not have to endure the rest of his life without the man he had become so bonded to. Michael vowed somehow to make sure that Justin was aware of just how lost Brian had been without him, and just how much he meant to him. Michael didn't think he even knew HOW much until they thought Justin was gone.

"I'm….._glad_ to see you," he said, somewhat insufficiently. "Shit…..I _still_ can't believe it," he added, shaking his head, marveling at the miracle standing in front of him. He and Brian shared a look between them before he added, "What Ben said goes for me, too. If you – or Brian – need _anything_, we'll be there for you both."

Justin nodded his understanding as Brian smiled at his friend gratefully. "Thanks, Mikey…..and you, too, Ben," he added sincerely, before placing his arm around Justin's shoulder tenderly and pulling the smaller man against his side. He watched silently as his three friends quietly walked out the door, heartened by the knowledge that another small but important step had been taken toward his partner's eventual recovery.


	30. Chapter 30:  Insecurity Rears Its Head

_Same Time – Harrisburg General Hospital; ICU Nurses' Station_

"Doctor?" Michelle tried once again to get the man's attention; as the doctor continued to stare off into the distance and didn't acknowledge her, she sighed in exasperation. "So according to the news Bill Clinton's finally divorcing his wife and marrying Madonna tomorrow," she informed him.

"That's nice," Andrew finally responded distractedly.

"Okay, that's _enough!"_ the nurse commanded in her best no-nonsense voice, as the other nearby nurses looked at her in shock. The serious tone in her reproach finally got the doctor's attention, though, as his eyes focused directly on her for a change. "_What _were you saying?" he asked her somewhat sheepishly.

Michelle pursed her lips together in disapproval. "Can I have a word with you _privately_, Doctor?" She didn't wait for his response before she walked out from behind the curved counter and gently but firmly took his elbow to lead him over to one of the nearby private consultation rooms.

No sooner had Andrew closed the door behind him than Michelle whirled around to face him. "Andrew, what is _wrong_ with YOU?" she asked him with a point-blank stare. "You have been zoned out all morning! Do you know I had to correct two of your medication orders earlier? You almost prescribed the wrong medicine for Mr. Howell in Room #4! That's not _like_ you, Andrew – _WHAT_ is going on? Are you feeling all right?" Michelle never had to worry about Andrew's efficiency before; up until now, he had been so focused on his job and working so many long hours she had been concerned about him not taking out any time for social activities. What had happened all of a sudden?

Andrew leaned his back up against the door and smiled wistfully. "I'm sorry, Michelle," he told her apologetically. "I'm feeling all right. That's not it." He rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm sorry I fucked up; shit, I can't believe I _did that!_ Thanks for saving my ass. I won't let it happen again."

Michelle studied her friend closely. "That's not why I brought it up, although it _could_ have had serious consequences. You're my friend, Andrew – I just want to know what's going on with you all of a sudden."

Andrew uncomfortably averted his gaze from her intense stare. He had barely slept last night and felt dead on his feet, even though it was wasn't even noon yet. "You're going to think I'm crazy," he began softly; even _he_ was having a hard time believing it.

"What?" Michelle asked him curiously, her dark green eyes full of worry for her friend.

"Actually, it's not a _what_. It's a _who_."

"Ah." A light bulb suddenly went off in the nurse's head and she couldn't help the knowing smile that sprang from her lips. Now it all made sense. Of course.

"Ah?" Andrew asked her warily. He never _was_ good at fooling this woman – that is what made her such a good nurse.

"Ah," she repeated. "You _are _suffering from a sickness, all right," she told him almost smugly. "Although, it's a little late for spring fever."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Andrew asked her defensively, even though in a way he already knew what she was about to say.

"You miss him already," she told him matter-of-factly. "_Justin." _She smiled triumphantly now as she saw his face flush with embarrassment, proving she had hit the nail on the head.

"So?" Andrew didn't try to deny it – he knew it wouldn't do any good, anyway; this woman knew him far too well. "What if I _do? _He was good company, that's all," he reasonably replied in his own defense. As Michelle remained silent and simply continued to stare at him skeptically for several seconds, however, his walls began to crumble and he had to admit defeat. "Okay," he conceded to her softly. "Maybe it's more than that." He shook his head in wonder and disbelief. "I…..I know he only roomed with me for a couple of weeks, but, damn it, I can't get him out of my fucking _head_! I came home last night expecting him to greet me with some outrageously huge dinner he had cooked up, and then I woke up this morning expecting him to be puttering around my kitchen with that stupid omelet pan he always had out, but all I was greeted with was _silence_. Dead silence. No pots and pans being banged together in the kitchen, no drawings lying around, no paint splotches on my newspaper, nothing….It was if he had _never been there!_" He shook his head in frustration. "Am I supposed to just pretend that it never _happened?"_ he asked his friend, who now wore a sympathetic expression on her face as she placed her hands on his shoulders in a gesture of comradeship.

"No," she told him firmly. "It _did_ happen. And although he was only here for a short time, that boy made a big impression on everyone who met him." Even though no one knew Justin's true identity while he was a patient, from the minute he had arrived in the emergency room he had left a lasting mark on everyone he had come into contact with. Andrew was no exception.

Andrew nodded in agreement over everything she had said, except for the _boy_ part. Justin may have been relatively young, but to Andrew, he was most definitely NOT a _boy_. Not with the way HE felt about him. "Of course, it didn't help that I got a call this morning from a Dr. Keller in Pittsburgh," he told her. "Apparently he was Justin's neurologist who treated him when he received his initial head injury several years ago, and that Kinney person wanted to arrange for Justin to go see him again to get another opinion. Don't get me wrong," he said quickly, "I think it's a good idea for him to gain as much insight as he can into his injury. Hopefully this doctor, or one of the other doctors at Alleghany General, can give him the much-needed pieces to the puzzle to help him restore his memory loss. But getting that call just made me realize that Justin has moved on and is back with _him_. Seems the man's taken over _everything_ having to do with his treatment. I _don't like it_," he told her flatly.

"Well, then, _Dr. Bradley_, why don't you _do something_ about it?" she asked him pointedly. Perhaps it was time for a little nudge in the right direction for her friend. For a man as intelligent as Andrew was, he could be downright ignorant in the romance department.

Andrew looked at her in puzzlement. "Like what?" he asked her curiously.

"Well, don't you have a seminar in Pittsburgh next week you have to go to?" She had seen his online schedule posted on the hospital's computer system and noticed he was scheduled to be out of town for the seminar for two days next week.

Andrew recalled with a start that she was _right_; in the hullabaloo surrounding Justin's treatment, his temporary residence at Andrew's apartment, and the blond's subsequent departure with the man claiming to be his partner, he hadn't given his schedule next week much thought. But he realized Michelle was right – he _DID _have a seminar next week…..in the same town as Justin.

"Yeah," he verified to her. "I DO – next Thursday and Friday." He frowned all of a sudden, however, as he informed her, "But I would have no clue as to where Justin is right now."

"Maybe not. But I bet _Brady _can find out where this Kinney lives. At the very least, we already know where the man works, and he owns that dance club the two of you went to, right?"

Andrew gave that some thought – maybe, just maybe he _could_ find him. He still wasn't convinced it was the best idea, but he _missed_ Justin. Maybe _more_ than missed him. "Maybe you're right," he told her finally. It wouldn't hurt to see if he could find him, and at least see if he was doing okay now that he was back in Pittsburgh.

Michelle nodded; she liked Justin and wanted the best for him, as well as her friend. Now, as she recalled her previous discussion with Andrew, and saw the light of hope flashing in his eyes, she didn't have to be a mind reader to know that this man was definitely hooked on the sweet blond with the bright smile and pretty blue eyes.

"If you want him, Andrew, you're going to have to _fight _for him," she counseled him. "Let _Justin_ know all the facts, and let _him_ decide what's best for him. There's nothing wrong with that. You need to be straight with him."

Andrew sighed. "I…..I already told him I was attracted to him," he confessed. "But I also told him I wouldn't push anything further unless he wanted me to."

"But did he know you were _falling in love with him_?" she pointed out candidly. Andrew had already admitted as much to her; now it was time for him to admit it to _Justin_.

"No," Andrew told her softly. "I never told him that. I thought it would put too much pressure on him, and he was going through enough at the time."

"That's very noble of you," she told him dryly. "But at what _cost_? If he can withstand a virtual stranger swooping into town and carrying him off to a relatively unknown location, I think he can withstand an honest talk with _you. TELL HIM. _What have you got to _lose?_" she pointed out.

_Maybe my heart._ But she was right – he had ALREADY lost that the minute he had set eyes on the man. Only this time Justin had the power to _break_ it, too. But he would never know if he didn't try. "Okay," he decided, as he squared his shoulders. "I'll do it."

* * *

_Brian's Loft – Noon_

Justin sat on the couch after Debbie, Ben, and Michael had left, his head a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts and memories that seemed to coalesce in the back of his mind like a drifting, swirling fog. He was certain of _some_ memories, mainly because others had confirmed his recollection of them – the horrible bombing at Babylon, Debbie's previous accident with the marinara sauce, his playful interaction with a little boy, Brian's biological son, who apparently loved him so much that he called him _Poppa, _and some very vivid, intimate memories of him and Brian together_._ He also had a multitude of details that Brian had provided to him during their discussion on the drive back from Harrisburg about his friends and family. But a few firm memories and lots of divulged facts did not a complete memory make. In fact, it was far _from_ it. He literally had almost 23 YEARS of memories to regain. Sometimes it seemed insurmountable. But the alternative was even more depressing. He simply _had_ to find a way to get his memories back, his _LIFE_ back. Hopefully, now that he was back in his hometown, he could finally start climbing his way back from the brink of darkness.

He was so lost in thought he didn't hear Brian returning from the bedroom where he had gone to place a call. "I just got off the phone with Dr. Keller, Justin," his partner informed him, as the blond's heart gave a lurch. He waited breathlessly to see what the doctor had to say. "By the way, I have a durable power of attorney for you, and he's aware you had already given your permission for him to speak with me about your medical condition after the first injury occurred," he explained, as Justin nodded his understanding; actually, he hadn't been worried about Brian speaking on his behalf. At this point, it was an ironic fact that Brian actually knew more about his condition than _HE_ did.

"He was sorry to hear about your latest injury, by the way, but he was also understandably stunned by the fact that you were alive _at ALL_."

Justin smiled at the irony. "Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus, doesn't it?" he cracked. He suspected that he was going to have to get used to that reaction for some time to come.

Brian nodded as he grinned. He certainly didn't have a _problem_ with it – he would be grateful for that fact for the rest of his fucking life. "Well, anyway, he's going to put in a call to the hospital in Harrisburg to have them fax over your diagnostic test results and emergency room medical record so he can take a look at them. He wants to see you first thing Monday morning – 9:00 okay?"

Justin nodded, but he frowned. "That's fine, but what about your _work_? You already stayed here today to babysit me," he pointed out somewhat distastefully. The last thing he wanted was for Brian's work to suffer because of his choice to stay home to be with him. Besides, he didn't need a babysitter; while he was at Andrew's he had been fine on his own. Now Brian was apparently talking about missing even more work on Monday. "I'm sure my mother can take me to see Dr. Keller."

But Brian would have none of that; he thought he had lost the man he loved forever; missing a few hours of work was irrelevant to him at the moment. He walked over to take a seat next to Justin on the couch. "No…..I want to be with _you_. I want to hear what Dr. Keller has to say. If they need me at work, that's what my Blackberry's for. I've got some good people I trust working for me now – they can do without me for a while, don't worry." He smiled at his partner, a little embarrassed, as he attempted to reassure him that he was right where he wanted to be – by his side.

Justin blushed a little at Brian's loving words and intense look. Despite his hazy memory, the man had a way of looking at him as if he could see right through him and it made his face flush with the beautiful man's powerful scrutiny. And as the brunet reached over to gently caress his still-healing left hand, he felt his pulse begin to race unexpectedly. This man could obviously have anyone he wanted – not for the first time, Justin wondered how in the world had he chosen _him_? "Thank you," didn't seem like enough, but that was all Justin could think of to say at the moment. He was profoundly grateful for this man's support as well as his patience.

"Anytime," Brian responded softly, his lips curling under a little in awkwardness at the sincere emotion apparent in his voice. He relaxed and chuckled a little, however, as he heard Justin's stomach suddenly growling and saw the blond grimace. "I see _some_ things haven't changed," the brunet declared, as he let go of his partner's hand to dig around in his jeans pocket for his cell phone. "I'll call us in a delivery for lunch," he told him, punching in the number for their favorite Thai restaurant that he knew by heart.

As he snapped the phone shut a few minutes later, he pondered what they should do for the rest of the day. He could go into work, but truthfully, he did not want to waste any time or opportunity to help Justin get his memory back. Dr. Keller, thankfully, had advised him that he did not see any harm in exposing Justin to sights and people that might hopefully trigger his memories. "Justin," he began, as the younger man looked over at him questioningly. "Why don't I call Daphne and see if she could come over? She's your best friend. From what you've told me, she's known you since you were little kids. If anyone else can help you get your memory back, then, it should be _her_. Would that be all right with you?"

Justin didn't hesitate; now that he had remembered a little of past events from Debbie's visit earlier, he was anxious to see what _else_ he might remember. Brian had told him quite a bit about his best friend, Daphne, on their way back to Pittsburgh. He was looking forward to meeting her and seeing if anything about her looked or sounded familiar to him. "Yeah, I'd like that," he told Brian decisively.

Brian nodded, relieved. "Good," he told him. "Our lunch should be here in about a half hour. I'll call her in the meantime and see if she can come over later this afternoon. _AFTER _you lie down first," he told his partner emphatically.

Justin twisted his mouth in a pout. He was _not_ an ill child. "But Brian….." he began in protest.

"No, Justin." The answer was given quickly and decisively with no room for argument. "No _buts_. We just got you back in Pittsburgh where you belong, but you're still healing. No arguments, Sunshine," he chided his partner more gently now. Brian then added one more word to his plea that he was not used to uttering from his lips: "Please."

The soft entreaty from this proud, independent man touched Justin deeply. How could he resist that one word spoken so fervently and those expressive, hazel eyes that were so full of emotion? The vocal protest he was about to utter died quickly to be replaced by a far different response. A soft sigh and a single word: "Okay."

The intercom buzzer interjected itself into their intimate moment. Brian smiled as he somewhat reluctantly rose from the couch to signal the delivery boy to bring their food up. Several minutes later, he carried over a rather large brown paper bag with the restaurant's name emblazoned on the side and placed it down on the coffee table. Justin watched in rapt fascination as the brunet reached in the bag and brought out white box after white box of food. "Did you invite a boy scout troop over or something?" he teased the other man in disbelief as he saw a half dozen boxes quickly accumulate on the table in front of them.

Brian laughed. "No, Sunshine, only _you_. I don't need Dr. Keller to tell me you must have a fucking high metabolism, because for someone so slender, you can wolf down an _enormous_ amount of food." He picked up a single box of shrimp with brown rice to open it. "This one's mine," he told his partner. "The other boxes are _yours_."

Justin gaped at him. "Are you _serious?" _What was he – a human garbage disposal? He had to admit, though – all of a sudden, he was _starved_. Smirking a little, he added, "Well, since you went to so much _trouble…"_ He blushed a little as he picked up one of the boxes that smelled especially good and opened it up to get a whiff. "Mmmm," he marveled. "That smells _good. _What _IS _it?" he asked Brian curiously.

Brian smiled. "It's Thai cashew chicken – your favorite, actually. Although the others are close seconds. I don't think you'll have a problem finishing them off, though – don't worry." How Justin could pack all that food in was always a mystery to him, but somehow he managed, and kept his slender frame to boot. _Must have been all our energetic fucking_, he thought, his mood suddenly melancholy; he hoped that they would be resuming that activity again one day soon.

Brian's prediction proved accurate as Justin managed to polish off the remaining boxes in record time to the brunet's amusement. Justin noticed Brian had withheld one smaller box from the rest of the lot. "What's in _there?_" he couldn't help asking his partner curiously.

Brian twisted his mouth into a grin. "Our dessert," he told the other man, as he pulled the box top open to reveal two fortune cookies. "We always end our Thai feast with a fortune cookie." Brian reached in and pulled out one of the cookies for his own. Justin, who was still holding his chopsticks, playfully reached in with them and deftly snatched the single remaining cookie from the box.

A sudden flash from another time abruptly entered his mind. He and Brian were sitting on large cushions on the floor in the loft while they fed each other Chinese food. Justin was teasing Brian with a piece of shrimp held between his chopsticks as the other man leaned over and snatched it with his perfectly-shaped lips. They then broke open their cookies and read the fortunes. Brian's was short and predictably simple, something about getting a surprise, while Justin's seemed ridiculously long as he meticulously told Brian what the fortune said was in store for them both. It had apparently ended with the two of them winding up on the floor cushions kissing and groping each other.

"Justin?" The blond slowly came out of his transfixed state to notice Brian looking at him fixedly with concern. He smiled in an attempt to reassure his partner, saying, "It's nothing. I …..thought I remembered something just now."

Brian was instantly alert, as well as terribly curious. "What?" he prodded him gently.

Justin briefly closed his eyes in an attempt to remember all the details. "We were eating Chinese food here in the loft, and I was reading off some ridiculously-long fortune to you, only I was making the whole thing up. I mean I _had _to be, because what I read would definitely not be in your run-of-the-mill fortune cookie, anyway," he added, embarrassed.

Brian beamed. "Yeah, it must have been the creative part of you rising to the challenge," he joked. "It DID happen, though," he said to Justin's relief.

Justin saw his handsome face cloud over, however. "What is it?" Justin asked him, as his hand instinctively reached over to firmly grasp the other man's forearm comfortingly.

"It's okay," Brian told him, reaching over to place his other hand over Justin's as he patted the slender, pale hand reassuringly. "I….had a medical problem around that time." As Justin looked at him questioningly, he added, "It's not important right now. The important thing is that I'm _cured_ now…..completely. It was just a difficult time in our relationship for a little while, that's all. But we got through it…just like we're going to get through _this_, too. You'll see."

Justin bit his lip thoughtfully; he wished Brian would elaborate on just what type of medical condition he had endured, but he got the impression Brian would rather not discuss it for now. He was heartened, though, to realize that he had remembered one more piece of his memory; at least _that_ part was reassuring. He decided to change the subject for now. "So what does yours say?"

Brian was relieved that Justin had decided not to press him about his cancer. What was in the past was done; he was healed now. The most important goal presently was to help Justin recover his lost memories – memories that are _temporarily_ lost, he vowed. "You first," Brian encouraged him; he had never believed in the drivel you always found in fortune cookies, anyway. But he couldn't help observing Justin's face as he cracked open his fortune cookie and slid the small, thin piece of paper out to read the small print: "Love is friendship set on fire."

Brian couldn't help smirking and rolling his eyes at the mushy sentiment. Justin, however, smiled. "I think it's sweet," he told his partner.

Brian studied him intently as he answered, "Even it if is _ridiculously romantic?" _He watched anxiously, his breath stuck in his throat, for any reaction from Justin; he bit back his disappointment when all he received was a reply of "I don't care – I _still_ like it" in return.

As Brian shrugged and tried to appear indifferent, Justin stared at him, wondering why Brian somehow seemed unhappy about something. Brian, however, just shook his head slightly in response to indicate it was nothing. "What about _yours_?" Justin finally asked the brunet softly.

Brian grudgingly cracked open his cookie and pulled the paper out to skim over the contents. He stared at the fortune, and then read it again. He kept saying to himself silently, _they're just gimmicks, they don't mean anything_. "Brian…..what does it _say?_"

Brian noticed with a start that he hadn't said anything and Justin was looking at him strangely. He finally found his voice and cracked, "It's just like I thought…..I got the next winning numbers for tomorrow's Powerball drawing. I'd better go out tomorrow morning and buy my million-dollar ticket." Squaring his shoulders and taking a calming breath, he looked directly at the blond and said, "And now that I've _finally_ managed to fill that enormous tummy of yours, it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain and go get some rest."

"But I'm not _tired_," the blond protested, even as he felt the soreness in his muscles and the fatigue slowing creeping into his bones.

"No arguments, Justin," Brian admonished him. He stood up and reached down to gently tug at the other man's right hand to haul him up to stand next to him. "Come on," he urged him as Justin allowed him to pull him over to the bedroom. "Time to lie down, Sunshine," he scolded him tenderly. He leaned down and pulled the duvet cover back and stood watching his partner to make sure he followed through on his instructions. Justin twisted his face in resignation and sighed softly. "Today I found out I have _two mothers_," he muttered under his breath before he quickly lifted his tee-shirt up over his head and let it fall to the ground nearby. As his creamy, pale skin was exposed to Brian's gaze, he heard the brunet's sharp intake of breath. His face flushed as he became aware of Brian's passionate look of desire that was readily apparent in the beautiful hazel eyes; unexpectedly embarrassed, he quickly sat down on the bed and slid under the covers, avoiding his partner's intense stare.

Brian cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well…..you get some sleep now. I'll try to call Daphne in the meantime and see if she can come over later this afternoon." He smiled slightly before turning to walk back into the living room area, Justin's eyes following him with regret – regret that he couldn't quite return the feelings that Brian so openly projected toward him. Despite the thoughts churning through his mind, a sudden weariness overwhelmed him and he was fast asleep within a couple of minutes.

Brian walked back to sit down on the couch, the slip from the fortune cookie now lying on the floor where it had drifted to the ground earlier. The words embossed on the small piece of paper were weighing heavily on his mind: _"Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves."_

He placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. _Fucking fortune cookie_. He knew the trite saying was a bunch of bullshit, but the words still threatened to pierce his heart anyway. His emotions were too fragile right now, too much just below the surface, threatening to erupt at any moment. He knew his feelings of insecurity were unfair to Justin; it wasn't as if his partner didn't _want_ to return his feelings just as strongly. And he had already warned Justin to stop apologizing for his predicament. But that didn't mean that he wasn't fucking frustrated as hell by Justin's inability to remember what they meant to each other. Brian _hadn't_ forgotten – he still loved his partner deeply and wanted Justin to return those feelings. _God, how he missed that bond, that intimacy, that feeling of euphoria every time they made love, every time they fucked, every time Justin looked at him with those blue eyes so full of love._

_Get a hold of yourself, Kinney_, he scolded himself. _This isn't about YOU right now_. Determined to begin their journey back toward normalcy, he flipped open his cell phone and dialed a familiar number.

At the sound of the distinct voice, he breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone could help Justin remember, it was his best friend. "Hey, Daphne, it's Brian."

He could hear the surprise in her voice. "Brian? This is a surprise. Where _are_ you? Last Jennifer told me, you were in Harrisburg." Since Justin's death, she and Jennifer had kept in frequent touch, bonded together in their mutual grief.

"When did you last talk to Jennifer?" Brian tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice; it certainly didn't _sound_ like Daphne knew what had happened today.

His impression was confirmed as Daphne replied, "Yesterday. Why?" She detected something odd in Brian's voice. Something almost evasive, secretive. "Brian? What are you _not_ saying?" she asked him pointedly.

Brian shook his head; he never _could_ pull anything over on this girl, even when he was trying to deny it to himself. But this time, she would have to wait until she saw this with her own eyes. "I need for you to come over to the loft….this afternoon."

Now Daphne was _really_ curious; just what was going on _now_? "Brian, you're acting damn peculiar, even for _YOU_. What is going _on_?" Since Justin's death, Jennifer had told her about Brian refusing to even set foot in the loft, that he was staying with Michael and Ben, and that he was hardly sleeping or eating. Now all of a sudden he was back at the loft and wanted her to come over? He hadn't so much as spoken a word to her since Justin had been killed, she assumed because he was in too much pain and didn't want a constant reminder of his partner in the visage of his best friend. Now he was practically demanding she come over this afternoon.

"Daphne, you'll just have to _trust_ me. It's more important than you could ever fucking realize. How about 4:00?" he pressed.

Daphne frowned at the almost pleading tone in his voice, so uncharacteristic of Brian normally. Of course, what they had all been through in the past two weeks was also unlike anything they had ever experienced before. Daphne couldn't count the number of times she had picked up her cell phone with the intention of calling her best friend with some juicy gossip about a mutual acquaintance, or to ask Justin to come over to watch a newly-released DVD movie, or just to lie on the floor chilling out, talking about nothing particularly important. But each time she realized she would never be able to do that again, the stabbing pain in her heart was intense. How she missed her bosom buddy, her soul mate in friendship. She supposed the least she could do now for Justin was listen to what his partner needed to tell her. "Okay, Brian….I'll be over there around 4:00," she told him.

She could almost hear the relief in Brian's voice as he replied, "You won't regret it, Daphne. And you'll never believe _why_."

His mission accomplished for now, Brian couldn't resist walking quietly back up into the bedroom area. Slowly pulling the partition open, his heart once again swelled at the sight of the blond angel nestled on the bed, the duvet pulled up to his chest. Justin's shoulders and head were the only parts of his pale skin exposed to Brian's sweeping, tender gaze. For several seconds, he watched the steady rise and fall of Justin's breath before he slowly, gingerly sat down on the side of the bed near his lover. Reaching out a hand to gently sweep the soft, golden errant hair from his lover's forehead, he leaned in to place an almost chaste kiss on the pale brow. "God," he whispered, his voice inexplicably choked with emotion. "I love you _so fucking much_." He watched as his partner subconsciously responded to the soothing tone of his voice by sighing and smiling slightly in his sleep as he snuggled deeper into the mattress. Brian couldn't resist the subtle, unspoken temptation. Slowly peeling the luxurious, slate gray cover back, he sat on the side of the bed and pulled his shoes off with his feet and tugged his shirt off before gingerly twisting his body around to lie down facing his partner. He soaked in the sight of the planes of the other man's face – his button nose, his long eyelashes, and his oh-so-kissable lips before he dared reach a long arm out to place a feathering caress along the blond's chest. He closed his eyes in exquisite torture as his hand made contact with the warm, firm skin, so achingly familiar to his touch. How he longed to become reacquainted with every well-traveled pathway of Justin's body, to touch, lick, kiss, and suck every delectable inch. He could feel himself harden just at the thought of their joining. _God, Justin._ _What you DO to me, Sunshine._ He groaned softly in frustration as his partner continued to sleep, unaware of the effect he was having on the brunet. _It's your own damn fault, Kinney…..no one FORCED you into this bed,_ he reminded himself. He winced as another fleeting, ironic thought crossed his mind – _just suck it up_ – but he decided that was probably not the wisest expression to use in light of his almost painful hard-on at the moment.

Sighing in resignation, he inched over slowly toward his lover until he could smell the unique, familiar scent that only Justin had. Slowly one lean hand traveled lightly around the blond's waist and curled around his partner's back. He held his breath as Justin instinctively snuggled into his side, one pale hand reaching out until the palm made contact with Brian's bare chest. Brian watched as Justin's eyelids fluttered and a small sigh escaped the pink lips before he, too, closed his eyes and fell asleep, wrapped in a blond cocoon of warmth.


	31. Chapter 31: Daphne's Turn to Be Shocked

_Brian's Loft – Mid Afternoon_

Brian had intended to lie down for only a short while once he had persuaded Justin to get some rest; he didn't realize just how mentally exhausted he must have been, however, because once he had nestled against his partner in their bed, and had reached around instinctively to securely cradle the slender, pale form against him, he had fallen into a deep sleep. Now as he lay there awake a few hours later, reveling in the warm, soft body next to his, he still couldn't quite comprehend that his partner was back here, in their loft, and in their bed; as Justin's body automatically spooned up closely against his, he bit back the flash of desire that arose and closed his eyes in thankful release as he took a deep, affirming breath of reassurance that he was. Of course, he was still concerned over what the best path was to take in order to help Justin regain his memories of their past together; after all, like everyone else he was pretty much flying blind here, but he _was_ heartened by the incremental steps of improvement he could see in his partner's recollections of his past – Debbie's incidents with the marinara sauce and his reminiscences of Gus, for example, but most of all, his frequent dreams and visions of their life together. That, along with his love for Justin, is what gave Brian the strength to keep going, and the hope that someday soon, sometime in the very near future, they could resume their relationship together – _all_ of it.

He groaned softly, partly in yearning and partly in frustration, as he felt Justin nuzzle against him more deeply in his sleep; this was perhaps the hardest part of all. Lying next to the man he loved, the man he had _made_ love to so, so many times before, the man whose body still somehow knew to seek protection, warmth, and comfort from his; lying there feeling Justin's body mold so perfectly against him, and not being able to do a damn thing about it, was fucking _killing_ him. God, they hadn't even _kissed_ since he had been reunited with him, except for a brief, chaste peck on the cheek and a sweeping brush of his lips across the knuckles. While their relationship had long ago developed into a more complex, multi-faceted one, their sexual energy and out-and-out lust for each other had always been an important, vibrant part of their relationship. Any other time, they wouldn't have been able to keep their hands off each other; now, Brian felt like he was walking on eggshells, afraid to push Justin too fast, too soon for fear it might cause him some type of physical or mental harm.

The insistent buzzing of the intercom jarred him from his ruminations. He felt the slender body next to him stir a little restlessly at the interruption as the buzzer sounded again. Reluctantly releasing his hold on the other man, he took a few seconds to caress the soft hair reassuringly before he quietly rose from their bed and lumbered over to the front door. "Daphne?" he called softly, trying not to startle Justin.

"Yeah, it's me," he heard the familiar, somewhat impatient female voice. "I was beginning to wonder if you were up there." There was a brief pause before Daphne couldn't help asking him, "Are you alone?" she asked, the familiar suspicion apparent in her tone.

Brian rolled his eyes –after he and Justin had been together as long as they had, why did everyone think that once his partner was gone he would automatically either start getting high again or fuck the first trick he could find? Of course, Brian had never been in love like this before, either, and Justin's loss - even though it had turned out to thankfully be false - had certainly cut into him deeply, perhaps more deeply than he could even admit to himself. Maybe, then, he would feel the same way if he were in their shoes. He shook his head slightly, not wanting to philosophize over just what that might say about either him or their friends as he advised her truthfully, "Actually…I'm _not_." At the predictable sigh that he heard escaping from her lips, he reassured her, "Trust me, though – it's NOT what you think…..Come on up," he said as he buzzed her in. As he soon heard the familiar whine of the elevator, he took a few seconds to hash over what had happened in such a relatively short time since his partner's return to Pittsburgh. So far, he had spearheaded a virtual parade of their friends coming to the loft in an attempt to trigger his partner's memory; in fact, it was beginning to resemble an episode of a new show – _Justin Taylor, This is Your Life_. Except so far, to Brian's disappointment, it didn't seem to be having quite the effect that he had wished for. As he waited now for Justin's oldest friend to arrive, he silently hoped that perhaps Daphne would have more success than everyone else had had so far.

He heard the knock on the heavy, metal door a few seconds later; glancing over at the bedroom, he could see Justin lying on the king-sized bed, apparently still asleep. Taking one more quick look over at the bed, he quickly swung the door open to observe Daphne waiting for him curiously. He noticed her eyeing him intently, undoubtedly like everyone else checking to see whether he had been drinking or snorting something.

Joining her out in the hallway, he smirked knowingly as he greeted her. "Before you ask me, no, I'm not high on something and I haven't been drinking my grief away."

The brown eyes studied him scrupulously before Daphne seemed to draw her own conclusions and nodded; she had seen Brian enough times in the past by now to know if he really _was_ on something or not, and currently he appeared fairly normal at the moment, at least for Brian. "Okay," she said in acceptance. "I believe you. But that still doesn't explain why you're back at the loft. Jennifer told me you wouldn't step foot back in the loft since, you know…" Her thought died off softly; she didn't have to complete it to know that Brian could easily finish it. Although Daphne had had her doubts about Brian's intentions toward her friend initially – he had thought nothing of fucking a multitude of tricks in front of both of them and had made no bones about discouraging Justin's persistent striving for his affections – once Justin had managed to capture Brian's heart, she knew that Brian would never betray his trust in him. And it made perfect sense that Brian would not want to go back to the place that held so many intimate memories of the two of them; the place where the two of them had first made love. So what had motivated him to return _now_? And why were they awkwardly standing outside his door?

"Brian….." She tried to look around him into the loft to see if he was hiding something. "Why are we standing out _here_? What's going on?" she asked him suspiciously, her voice rising somewhat. When she was unsuccessful seeing around the taller man, she folded her hands over her petite body and stood warily with her feet apart. "You're acting damn peculiar, even for _YOU_."

Before Brian had a chance to defend himself or explain his odd behavior, however, she heard a noise from behind him. "Brian?"

Brian bit his lip tentatively with indecision before he finally shrugged ever so slightly and slowly moved to the side so Daphne could see who had called out to him; by now, he had decided there really wasn't an ideal method for reintroducing Justin to his friends – it was bound to be a shock no matter HOW he did it; at least to everyone, however, it would be the kind of shock they would welcome – AFTER they come close to fainting from the revelation. He suspected Daphne wouldn't be any different.

The sound of that voice took Daphne's breath away; it was one she instantly recognized – one that was hauntingly familiar. A voice that Daphne had only heard lately in her dreams. At least her dreams weren't nightmares about his horrible death – rather, they were pleasant dreams where her best friend was alive, laughing with her over some stupid joke or telling her one of his most innermost wishes. Dreams where she could still kid him about some of the strange food combinations he liked to eat or about his hair which never seemed to lie down just right. Kind of…like it was right _now. _

As Brian stood nearby observing Daphne's reaction, he realized that she really didn't need to see the source. After so many years of friendship, he was sure she would have known that voice _anywhere_. He watched as she gasped in utter shock and the dark brown eyes grew large when she observed her best friend standing about 20 feet away just outside the partition to Brian's bedroom. His smooth, pale chest was bare and his hair, as usual, was even more tousled than normal. It was obvious from his half-dazed expression, sleepy-looking eyes and somewhat wrinkled pants that he had just arose from the bed behind him. But as the blue eyes she knew so well _blinked_, she realized with absolute, sudden clarity that he was also very much _alive_. "Jus…._Justin?"_ she whispered, incredulous, as her gaze vacillated between her friend and his partner; it was as if she didn't know which man to ask for the truth.

Brian smirked; by this time, he was getting used to the same, disbelieving reaction from everyone who came back into contact with his partner after his "untimely demise." As Daphne stood frozen, still not quite believing what her heart _wanted_ her to believe, Brian nodded at her before whispering one word: "_Yes_."

Daphne's eyes filled with tears as she shook her head, stunned. Could she believe what she was _seeing?_ Was this _real? _How was this even _possible_? She struggled to find her voice as the "ghost" slowly walked toward her studying her intently as he smiled almost shyly. "Daphne?" he softly asked.

Daphne's eyebrows narrowed in confusion; why did Justin sound so unsure of himself? Why was he saying her name as if he didn't really know? She looked over at Brian, extremely perplexed, asking silently for some possible explanation for this totally _impossible_ chain of events. She turned back to gaze at Justin, who came to stand a few feet away from her. Since she could no longer deny the truth of what she was seeing, she didn't care at the moment just _what_ was going on; what _was_ important was that the friend she had thought had been lost to her forever was here – standing whole in front of her.

"Justin?" An excited shriek erupted then. "Justin!" She launched herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely and trying to dance around in a circle with him. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" she kept screaming. As she tried to twirl him around, she noticed his stiffness and hesitation and pulled back a little to look into his face, into the blue eyes that were staring back at her and appeared to be just a little lost. "Justin?" She shook her head, her eyes not comprehending his strange reaction. What was it exactly? The _smile_…it's not _his_ smile. _It was more like the smile of a polite stranger_.

"I don't understand," she told him, finally stepping back a little more to study him intently as she noticed the odd look on his face and the awkwardness in his stance. Was it _guilt_ showing there?

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked over at Brian. "Just _what_ is going on here, you two? And _WHERE_ have you been for the past two weeks, by the way?" she demanded of Justin, hands on hips as her initial shock and then delight over seeing her friend gave way to something else – hurt and maybe a little betrayal. There could only be one, ugly explanation for Justin's disappearance and sudden return to the living - at least the only one that she could think of presently that would involve Brian as well. Nearly two weeks of pain and despair caught up with Daphne as her words rushed out in a spontaneous torment of fury. "What kind of _game_ are you two playing? Do you have _any_ fucking idea what you've put everyone through in the past two weeks, Justin?" she snapped. Justin's face quickly turned pale and the eyes that had previously looked lost now were also filled with quickly-appearing tears – tears of pain and sorrow over what a toll the terrible accident had taken not only on Brian but also his family and friends, even this young woman who Brian had told him was his _best friend_. He found that he couldn't speak at the moment; his voice was too choked up. _Please understand_, he pleaded with her silently.

When she didn't get a fast enough response from Justin, Daphne turned to Brian with a glare. "And were YOU in on this, too? If you were, you sure were the best damn actor _I've_ ever seen," she snapped.

She turned back to her friend now, wondering how the person she had come to love as her best friend could _do_ this to her. "Well?" she demanded of Justin, who abruptly shrunk back from her as Daphne watched, astounded at his timid reaction but still feeling a little hurt over his apparent ruse.

Brian rushed over to Justin, who looked like he had just been punched in the gut by his friend's barrage of hurt and suspicion over her feeling that her best friend would pull this kind of terrible stunt on her. Daphne watched, alarmed now, as tears began to slowly run down his face and he whispered, "Oh, God," before he virtually collapsed in the brunet's waiting arms. Brian wrapped his arms tightly around the slender body in a possessive, warm cocoon as he tried almost frantically to sooth his partner, who was trembling visibly. "No, no," she heard her friend murmur. "No….you don't understand," he whispered, as he turned his head into Brian's chest.

Daphne's eyes widened with fright now; her initial anger at Justin for pulling such a heartless and crazy stunt quickly evaporated as she observed his despondent reaction to her accusation. "What is _wrong_ with him?" she asked Brian softly, her brown eyes now wide with fear; the brunet was practically shooting daggers at her, his own eyes dark with anger. This shy, frightened man shrinking from her and trembling in Brian's arms was certainly not the Justin _she_ knew; something wasn't right here.

"Do you really think he would _do_ that to you?" he hissed at her. Daphne's eyes teared up now as she realized there had to be some other explanation for Justin's disappearance other than a prank gone terribly wrong. "No," she finally admitted truthfully; the Justin she knew would never, _could _never, do something that cruel to her, his family and the rest of his friends; certainly not to Brian, who definitely did not look like he was the willing participant in some kind of sick joke. "I…..I just don't understand," she whispered tearfully in explanation. "I'm _sorry_, Justin. _Tell me_," she urged her friend. "I'm sorry," she repeated sincerely. "God, what _is it?" _she wailed, her hands stretched out in apology. Her hastily-said, biting words were cutting into her like a knife now.

Brian took a deep breath and let it out, trying to diffuse some of the anger he was feeling at Daphne's assumption that Justin had somehow played some type of cruel joke on her. He knew how unbelievable this whole situation must appear to everyone, but Daphne's reaction was still unexpected. Did she really think he could _do _that to her? Maybe the worst part of all was that his belief that Daphne would hopefully spark some flicker of recognition or memory in his partner was seemingly dashed for now.

He leaned over briefly to give Justin a reassuring kiss on the top of his head and pat his back soothingly; he could feel his breathing evening out a little now and the trembling was thankfully diminishing, but Justin kept a firm grip around Brian's back. A brief remembrance flashed through his mind of another time not so long ago, really, when Justin had sought out his protective comfort after that horrible, awful prom night and its subsequent after-effects. Due in no small part to Justin's courage and their commitment to each other, they had persevered and come out even stronger for it; he was counting on happening _now_. Damn it - there WAS no other option.

As Justin continued to cling to him firmly, Brian didn't mind his partner seeking him out for comfort at all; any excuse to feel his partner in his arms was always a blessing, no matter how upsetting the circumstances. He looked up from the golden-crowned head to peer over at Daphne, whose face was contorted in pain and disbelief. Pain over what she had apparently caused to her friend, who she should have trusted to never intentionally hurt her, and disbelief over his timid demeanor. _This is NOT Justin_. She shook her head at Brian in a silent question – _what HAPPENED to him?_

As he looked at the heartbroken face of Justin's friend, Brian's anger dissolved into more of a level of understanding and empathy; perhaps it hadn't been fair to just spring Justin on her like that. No wonder she was left wondering how he had inexplicably risen from the dead; hell, he was still having trouble processing that fact himself. He gave Justin one more tight squeeze of reassurance before he finally loosened their embrace, even though he still kept one arm wrapped around his partner's shoulders. "Why don't we all go sit down and I'll try to explain what happened?" he suggested to the two of them calmly. "Come on, Sunshine," he gently implored his partner, who finally raised his tear-stained face to meet the auburn eyes tenderly gazing back at him. He bit his lip briefly in a few seconds of indecision before he eventually nodded and, arm still wrapped around the brunet's waist, he silently followed his partner over to the couch. Daphne continued to stare at the surreal scene in front of her for several seconds before she followed them over and took her place in a nearby chair.

Brian took Justin's undamaged hand in his and intertwined his fingers with his in reassurance before he began to slowly and methodically tell Daphne precisely what had happened to her best friend almost two weeks ago; at least, he told her everything that he – and Justin – knew for now. _How_ Justin was miraculously able to escape as the only survivor of the horrific crash and fire might never be known. But as Justin mutely listened beside him, his partner strove to tell her all they knew. He felt it important to Justin's recovery that his friends know as many details as possible about his condition so they would realize how vital it was to help him recreate his past memories. He was convinced that this was going to be the key to his recovery – _not_ some miracle of modern science or medicine. From what he had heard so far, none of the damn doctors seemed to know what they were doing, anyway.

Daphne listened in stunned silence as Brian revealed the reason for why Justin appeared so unfamiliar and even a little aloof with her. She looked over at her friend, who appeared tired and emotionally spent. After a few minutes, she watched as Justin sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head on Brian's shoulder, his hand never releasing his grip on the brunet's.

Justin felt his body drain of tension as Brian's fluid, baritone voice spoke eloquently and emotionally about the past two weeks; even though their relationship was still foggy to him, his partner still somewhat had the ability to put him at ease. Justin somehow knew this man would protect him, and would take care of him. He knew he could feel safe with him – always. At the soft whispering of his name, his eyes slowly fluttered open. He was a little startled to discover that his friend, Daphne, had arose from her chair and was kneeling in front of him, her brown eyes sympathetic and full of contrition.

As Daphne reached out with her hands, Brian reluctantly released his hand from Justin so she could grasp both his slender hands in her own. She stared up at him intently, searching for some sign of recognition as well as perhaps a sign of understanding and forgiveness from him – forgiveness over her false assumption that he would ever betray their friendship. "Shit, Justin," she whispered. "I…..I don't really know what to say," she began. She had already apologized profusely over her mistaken accusation; saying it again wouldn't really make any of the hard feelings go away.

"That's a _first_," Brian grumbled. "You normally don't have a problem with _that _issue," he observed somewhat curtly; he was still just a little irritated with her initial reaction, even though intellectually he understood the reason why.

"Brian," Justin softly admonished him. "Give her a break. I probably would have made the same assumption if one of my best friends seemingly came back from the dead – especially when they were told they was no way there could have been survivors." He smiled a little at his friend then – a smile that spoke volumes in terms of acceptance and pardon over her reaction.

Daphne nodded and smiled in gratitude, relieved that their moment of awkwardness had been assuaged. "What do the doctors say?" she asked her friend.

Justin let out a frustrated breath of air. "They all have their opinions, but no one seems to have any real _answers_," he told her, grimacing a little. "They say everything is an unknown when it comes to the brain. A doctor at Harrisburg and one here at the urgent care center ran an MRI to check on the swelling, and there's some hope that as the swelling goes down around my brain, my memory may improve." Daphne noticed Justin's eyes welling up a little again as he added softly, "But they just don't fucking _know_. No one knows."

"Well, _I_ know," Daphne told him emphatically, squeezing his hands lightly. "There is no _may_ _improve_ – I KNOW you. I know your stubbornness and resolve. SoI know it _WILL_ improve, not _MAY_. Just remember, as Yoda would say, _there is no try_," she said jokingly, scrunching up her nose at the bad comparison but heartened that Justin actually smiled at her comment. "You WILL get your memory back, Justin – _I know it_. Right?" she asked, looking over at Brian.

Brian smirked; this was one of the reasons why he liked this girl after all – she never had any problems speaking her mind. Well, usually. He could forgive her this one time if she was a little less glib than normal. After all, he imagined she had never met someone who had practically risen from the dead before.

"Right," he agreed readily, looking over at Justin and trying to smile convincingly. The half-hearted nod and accompanying smile he received in return wasn't very confident looking, but at least it was a start.

"I assume you're exposing him to as many people and places as you can to try and jog his memory?" she asked Brian pointedly, raising her eyebrows in a doctor-like fashion.

Brian rolled his eyes slightly. "Yes, _Doctor Chanders_," he answered dutifully, as Daphne stuck her tongue out briefly in response. "Does that meet with your approval?"

Daphne twisted her face at him. "Yes, _Mr. Kinney_, it does. But have you covered everyone and every place yet? Justin has a lot of friends and he….._got around_ a lot."

Justin looked down at her a little puzzled. _"Got around?"_ he asked her curiously.

"Not in _that_ way," Daphne reassured him. "I just mean between your artwork, going to school, working at the deli, and Brian's club, not to mention all the friends you have, you're pretty well-known around her by a lot of different people. And it's important you be exposed to as many of them as possible." At Justin's look of amusement over her choice of words, she shook her head in fake disgust and huffed in mock indignation. "Not _exposed _exposed," she tried to explain. "Aagghh!" she cried out. "You _know _what I mean." She huffed again. "Men…_gay_ men. Always thinking with their dicks first."

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Brian and Justin looked at each other and abruptly burst out laughing. Daphne looked at them briefly as if they were insane before she couldn't help smiling at their humorous reaction of her statement.

"It's okay, Daphne," Brian told her smirking. "We know what you mean." His face turned somewhat serious now. "Actually, I agree with you – I think it's important, too, that Justin be around the people and places that are most familiar to him. Don't you agree, Sunshine?" He didn't want his partner to think they were discussing his situation as if he weren't even in the room; when everything was said and done, it was Justin's life at stake and he should be the one to make the final decisions regarding his treatment.

Justin answered softly. "Yeah, I do," he told both of them. "I think THAT, along with the events I've been remembering in my dreams, is the key." He turned to look at Daphne a little uncomfortably, eyes downcast in regret. "I'm…..sorry I don't remember you, Daphne," he told her softly. "Us." Despite his promise to Brian to quit apologizing, it seemed like that was all he was doing lately. He just couldn't help it, though – every time someone he was supposed to know looked at him so hopefully, and he had to admit he didn't remember them, it made him upset to think that apart from brief snippets and flashes of recollection, all these friends – and even his _own_ mother – were still virtual strangers to him.

Brian and Daphne shared a mutual look of sympathy toward the blond before Daphne nodded slightly and stood up. "Well, _I'm_ not worried about it," she told her friend confidently. Inside, however, she was dying just a little at the thought that her best friend – someone she had known since she was a little girl and who she could tell her deepest confidences to – might never return to her, at least the way he was. It was like mourning the loss of a dear and cherished comrade. She missed her confidante badly and wanted _that_ Justin to return – to ALL of them. _Buck up, Chanders – at least he's fucking ALIVE._

Resolutely, she pulled her shoulders back and announced, "You are one of the strongest persons I know, Justin Taylor. You've come through some pretty tough times before, and you'll come through this, too. Or I'll _kick your ass," _she cracked. One eyebrow rose to stare at him in silent challenge.

Justin twisted his face in amusement. This was without a doubt one of the most outspoken people he had yet to meet since his accident. "You like to speak your mind, don't you?" he observed dryly.

Brian snorted and twisted his face. "That's a fucking _understatement _if I've ever heard one. You may not _remember _Daphne in the technical sense, Sunshine, but you know her better than you _think_." As Justin looked at them both with amusement, Daphne promptly stuck her tongue out one more time before she turned to go, afraid that Justin might be getting hit with too much of a sensory overload, a sudden thought occurred to her. "What about work?" she asked Brian. "Since Justin came back, I'm sure you haven't done jack shit for Kinnetik in the last few days, and knowing how anal _you_ are, it's probably killing you not knowing what's going on at the great, gay advertising Mecca of greater Pittsburgh."

Brian glared at her. "Well, aren't you just the most insightful and _thought-_provoking little thing, so concerned for me and my company's welfare," he answered with sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I happen to think that Theodore and Cynthia can handle my affairs quite well, thank you – my _business affairs at least _– for _brief_ periods of time." Internally, however, his mind wheels were turning at the thought of what type of havoc they might be wreaking on two of his biggest accounts that were due for new ad campaigns to be presented to them this past week – Brown Athletics and Roadway Sports Equipment. Both were owned by hands-on bosses who did not take kindly to being treated as a second-class citizen by Brian's _underlings_, as they would no doubt consider his two employees in charge during his absence.

Even Justin noticed the flash of doubt that quickly crossed his partner's mind, although Brian tried to immediately squelch the look in front of him. "Brian….why don't you go down to Kinnetik and check on things? I _did_ stay by myself just fine, you know, while Andrew was at work. I'll be okay while you're gone. I can call you on your cell phone if anything comes up."

Brian winced a little at the name of his partner's former roommate; he had no doubts that Bradley would be more than willing to move in to replace Brian if he was given just the least amount of encouragement from his partner. _Well, don't hold your breath on THAT, pal_.

"Andrew?" Daphne asked, puzzled, looking over at Justin for an explanation. This was a name she had never heard before, and from the look that Brian had given Justin at the mention of it, he sounded like he was bad news for some reason. The question was – for whom?

"He's the name of the emergency room doctor who first treated me at Harrisburg General," Justin explained. "I couldn't stay in the hospital forever, and he was kind enough to let me stay with him for several days until Brian found out I was alive and came to retrieve me." He cringed a little at the word _retrieve_ – he thought it sounded suspiciously like Brian was picking up a puppy from the humane society or something. In a way, he sort of felt that way – like he needed rescuing from a fate worse than death and Brian had come swooping down to take off with him and save him from a terrible calamity. In a sense, he supposed that was correct; not being able to remember who he was, where he had come from, or any of his past _was_ worse than death in a way.

"Oh," Daphne responded, not quite sure how much to push that subject. She resolved, however, to press Justin about this man a little further once they could be alone to talk. Now, in fact, might be just the right opportunity. "I can stay with Justin, if that would make you feel better," she offered, admitting, "I'd like to stay and talk to him some more. Maybe I can even fill in some more of his memory gaps…..that is, if it's okay with you," she asked her friend, who was still sitting on the couch.

Justin smiled softly. "I'd like that…..Daphne," he answered gratefully. He liked this outspoken young woman – she seemed to not hold anything back and he found that refreshing. He sensed this woman wouldn't try to purposely keep things from him or sugar coat anything. She just might be the ideal person to get a lot of useful information from – information that would be the truth and that just might help to trigger some more memories. As Brian looked over at them skeptically, Justin repeated, "I'll be fine…..go and check on things. You'd better hurry – with it being a Friday afternoon, most of them may be gone by the time you get there."

Brian looked at him a little suspiciously. "Why, Sunshine, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get rid of me," he told his partner. It came out as a gentle, teasing scolding, but beneath the cocky façade, Justin thought he detected just a slight mixture of hurt, doubt, and surprise at his willingness to let Brian out of his sight for a short while.

"Brian," he replied softly. "Daphne said she'd stay with me while you're gone. And I don't want to be the cause of any trouble with your company. You've got enough on your plate right now without having to worry about your company having problems. Go….._I'll be fine_," he emphasized, looking straight at Brian to indicate he could handle a short separation, probably better than _Brian_ could.

Brian hesitated for a few seconds. He _could_ call Ted and Cynthia to get an update, but if there was one thing he had learned about running his own company, it was that the higher levels of the echelon didn't always get the full answer from the plebes. It was better, then, to make a nice, unannounced appearance and find out just how efficiently the normally well-oiled Kinnetik machine was currently running. Besides, it should only take a short while and Justin's best friend _did_ volunteer to stay with him, so he knew his partner wouldn't be alone in case something should happen during his absence. Why, then, did he somehow feel at least a little apprehensive about leaving the two of them alone? Could it be because when he did in the past, they were always hashing out their own take on what was going on and frequently coming up with a different conclusion than _he _did? He couldn't very well object on that basis, however, without coming across as a suspicious, clinging boyfriend vine.

Sighing in resignation, then, he stated, "Okay….But I'll only be gone for a _short_ while. If you need anything….._anything_," he emphasized. "You fucking _call_ me – okay?" He eyed Justin intently while he waited for a response.

"Promise," Justin assured him, crossing his fingers over his chest in a solemn-looking vow. "Now _go_," he urged him. He made a shooing motion with his hands to reinforce his opinion.

"Okay," Brian said somewhat reluctantly, as he finally turned and walked toward the door. As he slid it back, he turned one last time to observe his partner and his best friend sitting on the couch together now in apparently comradeship. _Good luck, Daphne_, he thought silently before he walked through the door and closed it shut.


	32. Chapter 32:  A Heart to Heart Talk

An uncomfortable silence permeated the room for several seconds after Brian's departure. Daphne sat next to her best friend – the man she normally felt so free to laugh with, joke with, and just be herself with. She was certainly unaccustomed to the way she felt right now – awkward and almost shy. She glanced over at Justin, whose eyes were downcast and looking at his lap. He no doubt felt the same way as she did. Usually when they were together, she couldn't get him to stop talking, sometimes to her slight aggravation. Normally he would talk nonstop about anything and everything when they were together and not even come up for breath.

As she sat there deep in thought, she recalled the only other time she could remember him being so quiet like he was right now. It was right after he had broken things off with Ethan and he had moped around her apartment; she had been surprised but not altogether shocked to find out it was because he was regretting his decision to leave _Brian_, not Ethan. That had lasted, though, only until they had come up with a mutual plan to win Brian back. Since the time they had been reunited, the two men had virtually been inseparable, at least until Justin had decided to try his luck at an art career in New York City. He had finally told Daphne a few weeks ago, however, that he could no longer stand to be apart from Brian and was returning to Pittsburgh to resume his career here with the man he loved, the man he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. But that was before the accident….before _this_.

She sighed softly, which finally got her friend's attention; at last he looked up from his lap to glance over at her. She smiled a little self-consciously at him as she said, "This is a little _strange_ to say the least. I mean, I know _you_ but you really don't remember _me_."

Justin eyes looked back at her with a mixture of curiosity and regret as he replied softly, "I…..I _do_ remember a few things about my past." He twisted his mouth a little in a sort of silent apology that he unfortunately really didn't recall anything about _her_, however. "I've had a lot of dreams since the accident, mainly about Brian – and me. In all sorts of situations – here at this place," he divulged, as his hand swept around the loft, "and at Britin. Even at Babylon…..or I guess it's _Pulse_ now. I've even remembered a few things about Gus."

He explained to her that Brian and he had spent their ride back from Harrisburg talking about some of his dreams and what they had meant. "Brian has filled in a lot of the details about my dreams, but there's so much to digest when you can't hardly recall _any_ of it. I mean, there's _23 YEARS_ of memories I have to recover." He rubbed his hands over his face quickly in frustration before sighing. "Sometimes it seems nearly insurmountable, although I wouldn't want to tell _Brian_ that," he admitted to his friend. "He's….so convinced that I will get all of my memory back soon," he told her, smiling a little wistfully. "I'm…..not so sure, Daphne. It's been almost _two weeks_. And in that time, it seems like I've remembered so fucking _little_. It doesn't make me real optimistic, to be honest." He wasn't quite sure why he was opening up to this virtual stranger about his condition and his fears; perhaps somehow he subconsciously knew he could trust her to tell him the truth. "Andrew told me there's so little really that's known about the brain by medical science, it's all an educated guess when everything's said and done."

_Andrew_. Justin had mentioned him earlier, and Daphne had noticed the brunet's clear irritation at the mention of that name. She knew that despite Brian's adamant vow over the years that he "didn't do jealous," she – and Justin – knew better when it came to his partner. He may not come out and _say_ so, but the man didn't _have_ to – his feelings of possessiveness toward his partner and his wrath at any other man that tried to come between him was clearly broadcast all over his face whenever those situations occurred. The man didn't _have_ to say ANYTHING – his body language and his face spoke volumes. And Daphne had easily noticed the man's transparent look of jealousy at the sound of this particular man's name earlier.

"Andrew…..you mentioned him earlier. You said you _stayed_ with him after you got out of the hospital?" she softly pressed him; she was curious to hear just what it was about this man that had gotten Brian's dander up so quickly before.

Justin nodded. "Yeah….He was really good to me. He let me stay with him after I got out – I really had nowhere to go, and he had a spare bedroom because his roommate had recently moved out, so he invited me to live there with him."

Daphne digested that little bit of information. _Hmm_. _Spare bedroom_. _So apparently Justin wasn't sleeping with the guy at least_. She supposed that was something to be thankful for – if Brian had found out that Justin and this Andrew guy had had sex that would have _definitely_ rankled the man, and it would have no doubt made it doubly difficult for her friend and him to get their lives back on track. She briefly thought of how ironic that was, in light of how Brian used to fuck any good-looking trick that came within 2 feet of him; now from what Justin had told her, since they had committed themselves to a more monogamous relationship, his partner never engaged in that type of activity any more out of respect for Justin. She silently thanked God that Justin had apparently kept his part of their agreement somehow, even if it _was_ unknowingly.

"He's a doctor at the same hospital you were treated at?" she asked her friend curiously.

Justin nodded again. "Yeah – he's an emergency room doctor there. Kept kind of strange hours, too, because of it. I tried to thank him for letting me stay with him by cooking some meals for him." He smiled a little at his recollection of Andrew's brief, failed attempt to help him bake a cake. "I found out he's not real adept in the kitchen."

Daphne eyed him intently; Justin seemed almost animated as he spoke about this other man. For the first time, his eyes had actually lit up a little as he talked about this doctor. She wondered awkwardly if Justin had developed _feelings_ for this other man, even though at the time he had no way of knowing he was already deeply involved with someone else.

"Uh…..Justin. What does this man _look_ like?" That seemed like a fairly safe way to try and gauge just what was going on between the two of them.

"He's a little older than me, dark hair, green eyes, a little shorter than Brian," he told her almost analytically. "He's got a good sense of humor – has sort of conservative taste, though, compared to Brian," he further added as his eyes took a quick sweeping glance around the loft, noting again the clean, modern lines of his partner's living space as opposed to the more traditional, antique style that Andrew's apartment had.

Daphne nodded as she studied her friend. This Andrew sounded almost like a carbon copy of Brian, only apparently a little younger and a little shorter. Had Justin subconsciously been drawn to this other man because he knew somehow he reminded him of Brian?

"He…sounds nice," she answered somewhat noncommittally. "He also sounds a lot like _Brian_," she observed to him.

She noticed Justin actually flush a little; apparently the same thought must have occurred to him as well. "Yeah…..I thought so, too, after I starting drawing pictures of Brian and seeing him in my dreams. Maybe somehow that's why I felt like I could trust Andrew when he suggested I move in with him. I mean, he was a doctor and all, but I really didn't know much about him when he asked if I wanted to stay with him for a while."

Daphne nodded as she listened to him. "Yeah….But he didn't really know _you_, either," she pointed out. "Why do you think he would agree to let a virtual stranger with no known background and no apparent means of support move in with him?" she asked him curiously.

She again saw Justin's face redden a little as he softly admitted, "I think it was because he was _attracted _to me." He recalled Andrew's previous admission to him about how he felt toward him, how he had comforted him after his bad dreams and about their one, brief surprising kiss that one night. He had not exactly rejected Andrew's kiss that night, at least not for a brief period of time – it had actually felt good to feel the other man's lips on his, even if it was probably more out of a need for comfort than anything else. During those times, was he subconsciously reliving similar moments he had had in the past with Brian and not realizing it at the time? He noticed with a start, just a little embarrassed, that Daphne was still looking at him as if she were waiting for him to continue. "I don't know, Daphne," he responded to what he thought was an unspoken question from her. "Maybe I was really thinking in the back of my mind that it was _Brian_ and I didn't realize it at the time."

She nodded perceptively – _I thought as much, too._ "Makes a lot of sense to me," she assured him, trying to make him less self-conscious about his actions. "I take it, though, that this is why Brian doesn't exactly seem too happy at the mention of his name?"

Justin sighed, nodding. "Yeah….they sort of had an _unpleasant_ encounter just before I left. Andrew wasn't convinced it was best for me to return here to Pittsburgh," he offered in explanation. "He thought it might actually do more harm than good somehow. But Brian convinced me otherwise. He thought since I was already processing some information in my head through my dreams and sketches that it would be best for me to return to the place where I was most comfortable and be surrounded by my friends in a familiar environment. When we got back, I offered to go and stay with my mother if it would be easier for Brian, but he wouldn't have any of that. He's insistent that I stay with him instead."

Daphne lightly slapped her head with his forehead in an _aha_ moment. "Shit! Your _mother_!" She had completely forgotten temporarily about her. "I forgot! Your mother _knows?"_

Justin smiled at her. "Yeah – she was the first person Brian called to come over when we got back. He thought it was only right that she knew first. She…..was _so happy_ to see me, Daphne." His smile faded somewhat, however, as he confided to her, "But I still didn't fucking _remember her_ – my OWN mother, for God's sake!" He placed his head in his hands briefly as his body sagged and he supported himself on his knees. "She handled the news about my memory loss fairly well, but I could tell she was still disappointed. Even though I didn't remember her, it wasn't hard to figure THAT out." He shook his head now a little tearfully as he looked over at her, forlorn. "Sometimes it just gets so…_overwhelming_. The idea of it all; that I have so much to remember. And I remember so fucking _little!" _He continued a little more softly, "Sometimes I think Brian's going to get tired of dealing with it." He closed his eyes to try and prevent more tears from falling – he was so sick of feeling like a damn, scared little boy.

He felt a small, warm hand on his back as he looked up into the sympathetic, warm brown eyes of the woman he should recognize as his best friend, perhaps on some subconscious level _did_ recognize as his best friend; after all, he had just told her some things he hadn't told anyone else, even Brian.

"Brian would _NEVER _get tired of dealing with you," she strongly advised him with conviction. "He loves you too much to _ever_ do that – trust me." She continued to rub her hand softly up and down on his slender back, which she could feel trembling a little. "You didn't see him after he had heard the news about you," she told him. "His face, Justin. It was a _haunted_ face, a _lost_ face. A face full of hopelessness and despair, desolation. Shit, I don't think I have the words that are adequate to express to you how he looked and felt. God – I really think if it hadn't been for Gus, he would have done something _drastic_. Something irreversible – just to be reunited with you."

Justin looked over at her as he bit his lip in shock. His voice shook a little with emotion as he stammered out, "You mean…?"

He didn't have to finish the sentence. "YES," she replied, nodding. "I mean fucking _kill_ himself. He didn't want to live without you, Justin. That's how much he _loved_ you. How much he STILL loves you," she corrected herself. "If his love is enough to bring your memory back, then you have no problem," she stated flatly. "That man loves you like no one else – like no one else _can_."

Justin nodded, some tears now falling involuntarily down his cheeks as he whispered to her, "I know. Somehow I know. But will it be _enough_?" he asked her shakily, uncertainly.

She smiled at him tenderly, admitting, "I guess no one really knows. You just have to have faith that it _will_ be, okay?"

Justin nodded, smiling back at her a little. He still didn't remember their past together, but he felt so comfortable around this petite, caring woman. It was no wonder they had bonded and become best friends together. Despite his loss of their past history, at that moment he felt so grateful that she was here with him and listening to his deepest fears. "Daphne?"

"Yes?" she answered gently, her eyes never leaving her friend's soft blue ones.

"Thank you for being here. You really _are_ a good friend."

She smiled a little more broadly as her _own_ eyes misted up now. She was confident that no matter what happened going forward, they would _always_ be best friends somehow. "Anytime, Jus. That's what best friends are for."

* * *

_Kinnetik – early Friday evening_

"Hey!" Brian heard his assistant call out to him as he entered the building. "What are _YOU_ doing here?"

He turned to see Cynthia walking out of his office. "What – I leave for a couple of days and you _move_ into my executive suite?" he growled good-naturedly. He knew his loyal assistant of so many years would never do something like that; he actually trusted her implicitly by now.

Cynthia, of course, didn't take the bait; she knew her boss far too well for that. "Yeah – the interior decorators just left with some swatches for the new, lacy curtains I'm planning on putting up," she retorted smoothly. "The _old boss_ was far too Spartan for MY taste."

Brian grimaced, twisting his face. "Yeah, I heard he can be a regular fucking _tight ass_," he cracked, smiling in that self-deprecating way he had on occasion.

Cynthia looked back at him shocked; this was the first time Brian had smiled or made any kind of _joke_ since Justin had died. Since that time, her boss had looked more like one of the _living dead_. This man standing in front looked more rested and the light had actually returned to his hazel eyes. The fleck of gold was back in them, and his haunted, lost look had vanished from his face. _What the hell had happened? _"Brian?" she asked him questioningly, that single word encompassing so much in her tone. _What had changed? What's going ON?_

Brian smirked, about to see _that look_ again on another one of Justin's friends. He knew how much his "death" had affected his assistant. In her own way, Cynthia had loved Justin just as much as HE did; not only that, he knew she respected his partner as well. His death had affected her almost as much as it had _him_.

"Are you the only one left here?" he asked her, not wanting for them to be interrupted.

She nodded. "Do you really think anyone else would be sticking around here this late on a _Friday afternoon_?" she retorted. Truth be told, she had been about ready to leave when Brian had unexpectedly arrived a few minutes ago; she was just wrapping up the results of Kinnetik's ad campaign pitches to Brown Athletics and Roadway Sports Equipment. At least, thank God, the meetings earlier had gone well, thanks in large part to Ted's assistance. She wasn't looking forward to Brian's reaction if they had managed to fuck them up in his absence; fortunately, she wasn't going to have to worry about that.

Brian grinned at her saucy comeback, which was pure Cynthia. "Come and sit down for a minute, then," he asked her, motioning toward his office with his hand. He made a mental note to arrange for a time later to talk to Theodore about this – and to _apologize_ to his _significant other_, Blake. God, he _hated_ apologies. He normally didn't even _believe_ in them. But this was a special case – he would not be able to get out of THIS one this time.

"There's…..something I have to tell you. Something fucking _incredible," _he told his assistant, smiling more broadly now at her perplexed look. She continued to look at him in stunned amazement as she nonethless followed him into his office, at a complete loss as to just what had caused this unbelievable transformation in him.

As Cynthia sat down in a chair facing his desk, Brian diverted his path over to his nearby bar table and hurriedly fixed a shot of Beam. "Here," he said, bringing the hastily-made drink over to her and practically pushing it into her hand. "I think you're going to _need_ this," he cracked.

As he sat down in his leather office chair, Cynthia's eyebrows narrowed in contemplation at his 180-degree turn of behavior. You could almost see the thought wheels turning over rapidly while she analyzed her boss to try and figure out just what was the cause of this miraculous transformation in him.

"Trust me, Cynthia, you're _never_ going to figure THIS one out," he assured her as if he were reading her mind. "It's best I just come out and tell you what's going on instead, believe me."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Cynthia had drunk the entire glass of Jim Beam and tears were falling down her cheeks in stunned but grateful disbelief. She finally found her voice after several minutes of merely being able to gasp at Brian's news and utter occasional _I don't believe its and Oh, my Gods_ to say,"It's a _miracle_, Brian, an out and out _fucking miracle_," she told him, shaking her head as she tried to digest the incredible news. Brian had been right – she never in a million years, even a _gazillion_ years, would have been able to guess what he had told her. But she was so thankful that she couldn't. She was also so thankful that a man she had come to admire and love for his creativity, passion, honesty and kindness had somehow been spared and would be on this earth hopefully for years and years to come. And she was also grateful – perhaps most of all – that her boss, her _friend_, wouldn't have to endure the rest of his life being separated from the only man who had been able to capture his heart and firmly hold onto it.

"What do they say are Justin's chances that he can regain his memory?" she asked him with concern. Justin was relatively young still, but she couldn't imagine literally having 23 years of your life just swept away in a virtual instant.

She saw Brian flinch a little at her question; apparently, this was also a concern of his as well. He sighed softly, his face more serious now as he told her truthfully, "They…don't know, Cynthia. _No one_ seems to know. To quote the doctors, _there's so little we know about the brain still," _he replied, mockingly. "Fucking _drivel _if you ask me," he snorted. "I don't care _what_ they think – he's going to regain his memory – I just _know_ it." Internally, however, tendrils of doubt swirled around his mind. _Please – let him remember everything_. _Let him remember what we mean to each other_.

Cynthia looked over her boss, her friend, in sympathy. She could tell that despite Brian's strong words of bravado, he really wasn't any more sure of that than the doctors were. What she was really hearing was _hope_, not confidence. She wasn't going to point that out, however; she figured Brian needed all the encouragement he could get right now. At least, though, they were _together_. And Brian and Justin always were virtually unstoppable together. Silently she pleaded, _let that be the same NOW – for BOTH their sakes._

"I'm sure you're right," Cynthia responded smoothly, smiling at him as she tried to convey her confidence in his statement. "It might just take a little time, that's all," she pointed out reasonably.

Brian nodded. "Just don't let _Justin_ hear you say that," he cautioned her, twisting his lips under in amusement. "You know patience is not one of his strong points. Apparently _that_ hasn't changed through all this."

Cynthia grinned. "No, I guess not," she agreed. "He won't hear it from me, then," she assured him, as another thought suddenly popped up in her head. She sat up in her chair straighter, almost as if she had been struck by lightning. "Blake!" she cried out in epiphany. "He was RIGHT, wasn't he?" she asked her boss perceptively. "Justin was here before? In Pittsburgh outside your club?" she added.

Brian nodded reluctantly. Cynthia never _did_ let anything escape her notice – he supposed that was why she made such a good executive assistant. "Yeah…..," he admitted grudgingly. "It turns out he was _right_. It seems Justin had a bad dream one night about the bombing at Babylon and managed to persuade the person he was staying with to drive over here from Harrisburg to check it out. He got frustrated, though, when he arrived at the club and found out the name had been changed." Brian grimaced somewhat angrily at himself as he added, "I had changed the club's exterior so fucking much, Justin didn't even _recognize_ it. And it was locked up tighter than a virgin on her wedding night," he cracked. "There was no way to get in the front and he had no memory of how to go around to the back. Blake just happened to see him just before the two of them left to return back to Harrisburg. Of course, at the time I thought there was no fucking way Blake could have possibly seen what he _thought _he saw." He shook his head at the knowledge that he had could have found out about Justin's survival that much sooner if he had only checked out Blake's impossible claim. "I guess you should never say never," he advised her softly, internally berating himself for not checking it out. "Looks like I'm about to do something I fucking hate," he admitted to her. "I'm going to have to _apologize_ to him for that," he spat out somewhat distastefully. He felt he owed the guy that much; perhaps if Blake hadn't planted that impossible belief in his head, he would not have followed through on his gut feeling that the painting he had seen in Coleman's conference room was painted by his partner and not by the pseudonym name Justin had been using at the time.

Cynthia smiled at little at her boss' discomfort at having to apologize to Blake; she knew deep down he really didn't care, because the news behind his apology was so incredibly wonderful he wouldn't mind telling Blake and Ted the reason for his abrupt change in demeanor. She shook her head a little, still not quite believing what Brian had just told her. But one look at the spark back in his eyes and his more relaxed face told her it was _true_. "Brian, I can't begin to tell you how happy I am for you. How happy _I_ am," she added, smiling. "That's just…incredible. _Fucking miraculous_."

Brian smiled back at her in return; yes it was fucking miraculous. And he would be grateful and astounded by that fact until the day he died. "I know," he told her softly. "I know."

The two shared a mutual look of friendship and gratitude before Brian rose from his chair and glanced at the clock above his door. "I'd better let you get out of here," he told her, motioning with his hand for her to get up. "Shit – it's almost 7. Go!" he gruffly scolded her, but there was almost affection in his voice. "I….need to get back to Justin anyway," he explained. "Daphne's with him, but I don't like to stay away from him for too long, just in case…you know." He was somewhat at a loss for words – he wasn't even sure himself what he was afraid of. He just knew that now that Justin was back where he belonged –alive – fuck, how long would it take to get used to that again? – he didn't want to be away from him any longer than he had to be.

Cynthia stood up now, too, saying, "Of course – I can understand that. But, Brian…..tell him I am SO happy to know that's he alive. And tell him that he WILL recover completely, I just know that." Silently she prayed for both of her friends that that would be the case. But she also knew that no matter what, as long as they were together, somehow things would turn out okay for them. It always did.

Just before she turned to go, she heard her friend say, "I will, Cynthia. Thanks. For everything," he added sincerely. She nodded silently and quietly walked toward the outer door, leaving Brian standing in his office alone. He stood there in the hushed, still office for several seconds, the only sound coming from his breathing, before he, too, quietly walked toward his suite and closed the door. It was time to get back to the loft – back to what really counted.


	33. Chapter 33:  Swirling Lines Coalesce

_**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update - I hope to update a little faster once I get "Roughing It" done, which should be shortly. Need to ask your input here - is the pace going too slowly for you all? I think it will pick up somewhat in the next few chapters but my gut is telling me not to rush it TOO much - I actually prefer the journey's angsty steps a little to the actual destination (although hot sex between the boys isn't shabby, either - LOL!). You know by now where it's going to end up eventually, but what do you think? Let me know if you're so inclined. Thanks as always to everyone for the continuing support and thoughtful reviews. :)**_

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* * *

__Liberty Diner – Same Evening_

"Hi, Honey!" Deb shouted at her son, as he and Ben entered the eatery and took a place at the counter. "How's my favorite son and his hubby?" she exclaimed exuberantly, even more boisterously than normal. Ever since they had found out that Justin was _alive_, all of life's ups and downs had suddenly seemed so much easier to handle and Debbie was almost dancing on air.

"Hey, Maw," Michael answered, reaching over the counter to give his mom a quick kiss on the cheek as Ben smiled at her. "Can I get a hamburger with onion rings and a Coke?"

The redhead nodded as she wrote the order down on her pad. "And for the Dali Lama of the intellectual world?" she cracked at Ben, smiling as she peered over at the other man.

He grinned at her nickname for him. "Oh…..let's go with the veggie burger tonight and a side salad with the light ranch dressing, Deb…. thanks." As she nodded and turned to leave, they could actually hear her humming some sort of nondescript tune to herself.

Michael watched her rush off in amusement. "She's on fucking cloud nine since she heard about Justin being alive," he told his husband. Shaking his head, he added, "Shit – I _still _can't believe it, can you? I mean, what a _roller coaster ride_ it's been the past two weeks! Brian's gone from being as far down a hole as you can to being on the biggest high he's ever been on. I mean, did you _SEE _him, Ben? He looked like a whole different _person_ yesterday," he observed thoughtfully. "He…looks more like the Brian I know – NOT the shell who's been walking around like a zombie for the past two weeks."

Ben nodded. "Yeah, I know. The difference is pretty astounding, isn't it? The man looks _totally_ different. I mean, I think we all knew he loved Justin in his own odd, Brian Kinney way," he said, smirking a little; "I know the bombing scared him shitless and woke him up to a lot of things, but until _this_ happened, I don't think he, or anyone _else_ for that matter, really realized just how much he DID love him."

Mike pursed his lips together. "I'm _trying_ hard not to be upset with Justin about what's happened." He warily glanced over at his mate. "I know, I know," he quickly added, as he noticed Ben's look of surprised disapproval. "I _KNOW_ he can't help what happened, Ben, really I do. Justin and I have had our differences, but we've actually become friends over the past few years. But _still_….I just can't help feeling that he's about to break Brian's heart."

Ben looked at him in shock. "What the _hell_ are you talking about, Michael? How could you _think_ that? Weren't YOU the one who told me Justin was on his way home permanently to be with Brian when the accident happened?"

Michael fidgeted somewhat uncomfortably on the hard, rubber stool; he _hated_ to feel this way – he really _did_ like Justin – but it was still an unfortunate truth. "Yes," he admitted grudgingly. "He was. But, Ben, that was _before_ the accident; before he lost his memory, including his feelings for Brian." He let out a small huff of breath as his brown eyes peered intently over at his mate. "I'm just afraid they'll never be able to recapture what they had, and Brian's going to get hurt, that's all." For everything that he and Brian had gone through – their sometimes rocky relationship over the past few years especially – he was _still_, and always _would_ be, his best friend, the one who always looked out for him; he couldn't _help_ it.

Ben didn't have the opportunity to refute Michael's statement before Debbie returned with their orders. Placing their china plates down in front of them, she noticed their rather solemn expressions. "What's with YOU two_?" _she asked. "You haven't even _tried_ the food yet," she cracked. When neither man so much as smiled, she frowned. "Okay, _out_ with it. What's up?" She stood there, one chubby, lacquered hand on her hip as she stared at her son pointedly until he finally sighed. He really didn't want to get into this with her, but he knew it was inevitable.

"I told Ben that I'm afraid Brian is in for more disappointment," he murmured, not quite able to look his mother in the eye; he knew how much she loved Justin just like another son, the same as she did Brian, actually.

"What do you mean, _in for more disappointment?_" she asked, her eyebrows narrowing in puzzlement. "Sunshine's back home where he belongs! How could Brian possibly be in for more _disappointment?"_ she almost shouted. "He's fucking _ecstatic_! Did you see the same man _I_ saw over at the loft today?"

Michael quickly shushed her, looking around to see if they were overheard. "_Maw_…..will you keep it _down?_ Brian doesn't want everyone to get wind of this just yet. You _saw_ how the press buzzed around Justin the last time he was in the news – if they find out NOW that he was the only survivor of the train crash, they won't leave him OR Brian alone!"

Debbie rolled her eyes at her son's reproachful tone, but she nonetheless lowered her voice; she didn't want one of her "sons" to be harassed, either, and she knew how all the attention had affected Justin the first time. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of the same thing. She was perfectly willing to let Justin and Brian handle it on their own terms, as long as it meant Sunshine was back where he belonged and _alive_. "Okay, okay," she responded more softly this time. "But you'd better _explain_ yourself, Michael Novotny."

Michael bit his lip slightly in reluctance; he had a good idea what his mother's reaction would be, and chances are it wouldn't be a _pleasant_ one.

Ben, however, wouldn't let it slide. "Well, go ON, Michael….._tell _her what you told ME." He gave his husband a look that clearly said, _if you won't tell her, I will_.

Two pairs of eyes bored into him until he sighed and finally muttered in resignation, "All _right_." He took a deep breath of fortitude. "I'm just worried that if Justin doesn't get his memory back, Brian will be in for major disappointment because Justin won't remember how he felt about him. And if they can't get back what they _had_, Brian's going to go off the DEEP end. I really think he'll never open his feelings up for _anybody_ ever again; Justin was – and _is – _the only one who could ever make him vulnerable. If they lose that bond, Brian won't let himself be exposed again. I _know_ him – he'll either clam up so tight NO ONE will be able to get through to him, or he'll be out again every night fucking every guy in Pittsburgh, smashed to the gills, or high on the latest god-awful boutique drug that Anita can come up with for him."

Debbie shook her head; did her son really have so little faith in his friend – and in the man who had accomplished what no one else had ever been able to do? She sighed in disappointment over her son's seemingly little conviction. "Michael…..you can be a fucking naysayer all you _want_. I, for one, will never in a million years believe that Justin won't get back what he has lost. That boy is stronger than you give him credit for. I mean, look what he went through after the prom! It took a hell of a lot for him to come through his treatment, and he _did_ – better and stronger for it. Not only that – he had to deal with a fucking homophobe father who didn't deserve the kind of son he had anyway, the horrible bombing at Babylon – yes, I know, you did, too, but don't change the subject," she hastily added before her son could interrupt her. "He's also had to deal with getting established alone in New York, not to mention his and Brian's separation for several months after the Rage party. Have you forgotten, by the way, how he pursued Brian and won him back then? That all took _courage_, Michael, and that boy's going to fight his way back no matter _WHAT_. So you can believe what you _want_ – just don't go pulling Brian down WITH you," she demanded as she reached down to not-so-gently grasp her son's chin to bring his eyes up to meet her defiant ones. "You just stay the _hell_ out of it and let them resolve it on their own, do you HEAR?" She gave him a not-so-gentle slap on his cheek for emphasis.

Michael huffed a small breath of anger before he finally cast his eyes downward in defeat. He softly muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I'll…_stay out of it_," he spat it out with distaste, even though he still didn't agree with her opinion. He couldn't help having major doubts that Brian and Justin's relationship could be repaired, but he was willing – albeit extremely reluctantly – for them to try and work it out on their own. He figured he at least owed Brian the chance to try and regain what he was so desperately hoping for.

Debbie smiled serenely now. "That's _better_." She looked over at Ben, who grinned back at her in amusement. "I'm going to expect _YOU_ to see that he keeps his _promise_," she flatly told him, offering no room to disagree.

Ben plastered on a solemn face. "Yes, _ma'am," _he dutifully responded, as Michael looked over at him as if he had been betrayed by his biggest advocate.

Debbie nodded, satisfied that the conversation was settled appropriately. "Good. Now EAT," she commanded. "Before the food gets even _colder." _She abruptly turned on her heel and rushed over to the chef's window as the "order up!" shout resounded in the diner. "Keep your fucking _apron_ on, Emeril Lagasse – I'm coming!" she shouted, as she stuck her pencil behind one wigged ear and hurried to grab the next diner's plate.

* * *

_Brian's Loft – Late Evening_

Justin and Daphne looked up from the couch as they heard the heavy metal door to Brian's living quarters sliding open. The brown-haired woman couldn't help the look of anticipation that suddenly appeared on her friend's face as he anxiously waited for Brian to enter; even though Justin had memory issues from the accident, to Daphne it was still readily apparent that somewhere in the muddled recesses of her friend's mind, he still knew what this man meant to him. They just had to find a way to rewire the circuits so he could remember it _all_.

As Brian slid the door back to close it, he turned quickly to immediately locate his partner, who, to his relief, was sitting quietly on the couch close to Daphne. "Hey," he softly called out to them as he tugged on his tie to loosen it; he hated wearing the fucking nooses when he had to, so the first thing he always did when he got home from wearing his _respectable_ business clothes was pull the damn tie _OFF_. Of course, normally if Justin was home, and they were alone, the _rest_ of his business clothes would quickly be discarded as well – normally by his extremely impatient lover. He bit back a sigh as he realized that that tantalizing scenario would likely NOT be happening tonight, however. He forced himself to smile politely, instead, and asked the pair, "Everything going okay?" as he took a few seconds to walk over to the fridge to open the door and retrieve a bottle of spring water.

Daphne met his eyes and tried to return his smile encouragingly; while Brian had been gone, she wouldn't exactly say she and Justin had had any major breakthroughs, but at least she could say her friend definitely seemed to feel more comfortable around her, a fact she was heartened by. It was a start, at least, hopefully the beginning of more encouraging signs to come. "Everything's fine," she told him, smiling over at Justin to reassure him. She noticed the two men seemed to only have eyes for each other at the moment, however; deciding this would be a good time to exit, then, she rose quietly. "I…..think I should go," she announced softly. "It's getting kind of late, and I have class early tomorrow," she explained in apology.

"What kind of classes are you taking?" Justin asked her curiously; he was discouraged to realize he should already KNOW but obviously _didn't_.

"Pre-med, mainly," she responded, as she rolled her eyes. "If you ask ME, I prefer to call it pre-_torture_. I fully expect the professor to wheel out a prisoner's rack and ball and chain any time now if we don't turn all our homework in on time," she cracked. She was happy to see that Justin actually laughed at little at her joke; she had really missed her friend's _smile_ most of all. She couldn't help returning his smile as she leaned down to give him a small kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you soon, okay?" she promised him, as he nodded at her in agreement.

"Thanks, Daphne, for keeping me company while Brian was gone…..AND for replacing him as my substitute _nursemaid_," he kidded her, as Brian looked over at him innocently. Even with his memory impaired, Brian realized his partner was still _on to him. _

Daphne laughed softly now; it was so good to kid with her best friend, even if they DID have a long road to travel yet. "Any time, Justin. I have _faith_ in you. You were always the best one at keeping him in line, anyway," she divulged to him as she winked.

As she turned to go, she walked over to Brian, suddenly appearing older and more mature than he had remembered; when did this girl – no, _young woman _– grow up so quickly when he wasn't looking? Something rippled between them just then – a mutual, shared appreciation of finding something precious that they both thought had been lost forever – as she felt the strong need to reach up and place both of her smaller hands on his upper arms to kiss HIM on the cheek, also. She saw Brian smile slightly – a silent expression of thanks and gratitude for helping the man he loved to begin the path on an eventual road to his recovery – before she softly told him, "I'll be back." He nodded briefly before she gently disengaged from their loose embrace to head toward the door. "Call me if you need anything," she told her friend. "And I'll be back over soon, okay?"

"Okay," Justin answered softly. "And, Daphne…..thanks. I'm….._glad_ you're my friend."

Daphne twisted her mouth. "_BEST friend_," she corrected him tenderly. "Don't forget that," she added, as she opened the door with surprising strength and walked through the open doorway; taking one more quick glance over at the couch to make sure the evening hadn't just been some type of wonderful dream, she quietly closed it behind her, leaving Justin and Brian alone once again.

Brian smiled down at Justin gently; even after a couple of days, the sight of his partner sitting there, relatively whole and looking so fucking beautiful, took his breath away. As Justin returned his smile somewhat uncertainly, Brian took that as sufficient encouragement to join him. "Are you _hungry?" _he asked the blond, as he sat down close to him. He just couldn't help himself as once again he reached for the pale, slender hand resting on the couch so close to his own; his heart warmed as Justin openly accepted the affectionate gesture by curling his own fingers around his palm in response. He marveled silently at the softness and warmth he so immediately noticed; how _wonderful_ just that simple touch felt at the moment.

Justin shook his head. "I'm fine," he assured him. "Daphne managed to scrounge up enough food to get me _stuffed_."

Brian snorted. "I never knew that was _possible_," he teased his partner gently, receiving a somewhat surprised look in return. "Don't look so _shocked_, Sunshine. For someone who's so slender, you can pack away a fucking _truckload_ of food in a short amount of time. Besides, I didn't really think I HAD much food in the loft." Brian hadn't set foot in his place in almost two weeks; the last thing he had been worried about lately was eating. His stomach had been churning with nausea so much over Justin's death; until now he hadn't given much _thought_ to eating. Now that Justin was back home, however, he made a mental note to order some groceries to be delivered tomorrow. No matter HOW much Justin didn't remember, he had a feeling his appetite hadn't changed – for _food_, anyway. Hopefully, he would get his _other _appetite back soon for HIM, or Brian was liable to die from sexual starvation. He tried to banish that unfortunate, terrible thought from his mind as he noticed his partner suddenly erupt with a wide, verbal yawn and smile sheepishly. "Sorry," he told the brunet. "I'm guess I'm a little tired after all that food."

Brian twisted his mouth skeptically. "I don't think it's just the food, Sunshine. You've had a long day and I think we're _both_ forgetting you were in the hospital less than two weeks ago. Time for you to get some more rest."

"But, Brian, I…."

"No argument, Justin," Brian told him firmly in a non-nonsense manner. He pointed toward the bedroom.

Justin sulked slightly as he glared at the other man's command. He had already made him take a two-hour nap earlier today; what did he think he was – a _toddler?_ But he could tell from Brian's expression that he was NOT going to back down. "All right," he finally acquiesced, although he still wasn't happy about it; his mind was still whirling with information he had gleaned from his conversation with Daphne, Michael, his mother, Debbie, and …_what was his name? Ben_. As he rose to stand, he noticed Brian giving him a rather odd look. Was he debating whether or not he wanted to join him in their bed? Perhaps he was asking for too much from him; through the dreams he had been having of his partner, he already knew Brian was an extremely voracious man when it came to sex. Was it fair, then, to expect him to share a bed with him and not be able to participate in his favorite activity?

"What?" Brian replied softly with a slight edge of exasperation; his partner could be so damn stubborn sometimes. "You're not going to still argue with me about this, are you?"

Justin stood up to face the other man, shuffling somewhat uncomfortably on his feet. "No," he whispered. "It's not _that_."

Brian looked at him puzzled. "Then what _is_ it?" He noticed Justin looking at him in unaccustomed awkwardness.

"I…..We…..Shit!" he exclaimed in frustration, as Brian stared at him uncomprehendingly. This was _ridiculous_; after all, this man was his _partner_. His LIFE partner. The man he was supposed to love and the man he was supposed to be building a life with. Why was this so fucking hard, then?

Brian held back a temptation to probe into just what his partner was concerned about, deciding instead to try and let him work it out in his head alone. After a few seconds of silence, Justin finally whispered, "We can….._you know_…..if you want to, that is."

Brian frowned; if I want to _what_? Furiously racking his brain to try and figure out just what the blond was implying, he continued to stare at the other man's obvious self-consciousness for several seconds before he finally put two and two together and a light bulb went on in his head. His head warred with the physical reaction his body was beginning to have just at the thought of being with his partner again – in the full, true sense of the word – before he roughly tamped it down. "You mean _fuck_?" he blurted out; he wanted to make sure they were talking about the same subject here. Justin didn't have to answer him, however; his reddening face and nervous expression told him everything he needed to know. Justin finally nodded his head in confirmation anyway.

Brian briefly closed in eyes; God, if he only knew how MUCH he wanted to do just_ that_. He wanted to sweep him up right now into his arms, carry him to their bed, and fuck him for the next MONTH, never letting him out of their bed the entire time. He had felt that way virtually from the first second he had laid eyes on him again. But that wasn't the way he wanted it to be; not with this man who meant so much to him and who firmly held his heart in his hands.

He slowly walked over to the blond, whose eyes were cast down from embarrassment that he even had to bring the subject up; by now, their mutual desire should have been instantly transmitted by just a look between them.

"Sunshine…..Let me get something straight with you. Yeah – we could walk over to our bed and I could fuck you senseless; in fact, I've dreamed about nothing else since the first second I saw you again," he admitted to the other man, who looked up somewhat in surprise. "But I won't do that. You want to know why?"

Justin nodded silently, shocked, his eyes unable to leave the hazel ones looking back at him so intently, so deeply. "Because you are so much more than just a casual _fuck. _Because when we…" _God, why was it so damn hard just to SAY the words?_ He took another breath to begin anew, "Because…..when we make _love_ again, I want to see that look in your eyes that you always get when we're together. That looks that tells me that you love me, that I'm the only man in your life, and will _always be_ the only man in your life; that I'm your _partner_ in every sense of the word. And as much as it pains me to say it, right now it _isn't there_," he flatly informed him truthfully.

_Shit_. He cursed at himself as he saw the tears immediately forming in the soft blue eyes. He immediately walked the short distance separating them to place his shoulders firmly on the other man's upper arms. "Now don't you fucking _do_ that, Justin Taylor," he admonished the other man gently. His right arm reached out to tenderly grasp the pale chin and raise the blue eyes to force them to look at him. "_No_, Justin. Don't you go blaming yourself again, and don't you _DARE_ apologize to me. We've already been through this, Sunshine." Justin closed his eyes to try and prevent the tears that still managed to escape from his eyes in regret and shame; no matter HOW many times Brian told him it wasn't his fault, he would still feel somehow responsible for the change in their relationship. He opened his eyes when he felt two gentle thumbs brush the tears from his dampened cheeks as Brian's hands cradled his face.

Brian pulled Justin into his arms and wrapped his own long hands tightly around his back; he heard the blond sniffle a little and tremble in his arms, the beating of his lover's heart tapping out a furious rhythm of pain and sorrow against his own chest. Brian nestled his head on top of Justin's soft blond hair as he whispered to him, "We WILL get through this, Justin. That's a _promise_, okay? And we'll come out even _stronger_ for it, you'll see." Brian only wished he could be as sure of that as he made it _sound_.

They stood that way for several minutes, neither man speaking aloud but saying volumes in their embrace. _Hold me, protect me, love me, don't give UP on me, on US._ Finally, Brian heard Justin issue a strong, resigned sigh before he finally loosened his hold far enough to stare into the other man's eyes. They were still glistening with the tears he had shed, but at least he was no longer crying. He noticed Justin eyes searching his face as if he were trying to commit it again to memory – a _new_ memory. Brian smiled back at him slightly as if to say, _it will be okay – you'll see_, before Justin nodded as if in response and finally pulled away from the brunet. "I…I'm going to go lie down now," he said softly. He started to walk away a little before he slowly turned around and whispered, "Come with me?" as he reached out his hand to his partner in invitation.

Brian's breath caught in his throat at the plaintive, almost desperate question contained in that voice. He pursed his lips together – partly to keep his own eyes from shedding tears at the man's lost-sounding tone, but also to give him time to find his own voice again. Brian simply nodded, reaching out to join their two hands together; as he felt the familiar jolt of contact, he wound his arm around Justin's waist and walked with him to the bedroom.

He broke contact with Justin long enough to unbutton his shirt and shed it; he quickly reached for a nearby hanger and hung it up in the closet; his pants quickly joined it. A quick kicking of his shoes succeeded in doffing the leather loafers, and he quickly bent down to peel off his socks, leaving him clad only in his rather tight, black briefs.

He turned around tentatively, in total disbelief that he, Brian Kinney of all people, could actually feel hesitant in front of another man, to stare at his partner, who, to his relief and satisfaction, was looking back at him with desire. It still wasn't the expression that he wanted from Justin – the one that said _I'm yours, only yours forever_. But it was a start; a basis to build upon.

Justin looked down quickly, aware that the elegant, handsome brunet had caught his admiring stare.

"Justin." He heard Brian call out to him softly, as he noticed the brunet shaking his head. "Don't ever feel bad about looking at me like _that_ – trust me, Sunshine, I _like it_; a LOT."

Justin nodded and blushed, emboldened to take his own clothes off now. After fairly efficiently removing his shoes and socks and placing them on the nearby floor, he slowly pulled his long-sleeved tee shirt up over his head, noticing Brian's eyes lighting up at the sight, before he turned around to begin unbuttoning his pants. He thought he heard Brian's breath hitch in his chest as he bent over to discard the pants on the floor as well, leaving him, like Brian, clad only in a white pair of briefs. Before turning around, he bit his lip in anticipation of the other man's reaction before he risked a glance back at his partner. Partially to his relief, he found that Brian had proceeded to slide under the duvet and was already under the covers by the time he had turned around; he silently thanked him for the thoughtfulness before walking over to his side of the bed to join him.

As Justin lay on his side closely facing his partner now, Brian turned on his side, also, to stare at the blue eyes he knew so well. A tanned, lean hand reached out from the under the covers to briefly caress the soft blond bangs before Brian whispered, "Good night, Sunshine. Sleep well." He started to drop his hand back to his side when Justin quickly, unexpectedly reached to grab his hand and place it at the side of his waist firmly. "Good night, Brian," he whispered back, reaching to place his own hand on Brian's chest as he slowly closed his eyes and the long lashes fluttered downward.

Brian continued to stare at the angel lying next to him for several minutes, his hand wrapped around the other man's back as he felt the warm, soft palm resting against his heart, right where Justin could hear it beating strongly and steadily as if he were seeking reassurance. Only after he heard his partner's even, slow breathing signifying that he had finally gone to sleep did Brian dare to close his own eyes in a mixture of thankfulness, hope and resignation.


	34. Chapter 34:  Next Stop:  Memory Lane

_Loft - Early Morning – Next Day (Saturday)_

"Huh?" Brian mumbled, half-awake, as he thought he heard someone speaking; as he became more alert, he realized it was Justin talking in his sleep. His partner's mumbling, as well as his thrashing to and fro on the bed, must have been what had awakened him. He reached over gently to nudge the blond's shoulder. "Justin?" he whispered to his partner urgently. "Wake up, Sunshine," he pressed him.

"I can't….I can't _do_ it!" Justin cried in his sleep as his body shook almost violently. He made a motion with his hands as if he was firmly holding onto something and pointing it downward. "No!" he practically shouted. His body was coated with a light sheen of sweat as he continued to struggle with some unseen, dark vision.

Brian stared at him, concerned. Whatever his partner was dreaming of was definitely unpleasant. Was he actually remembering something again or was it some type of imaginary, horrible nightmare? "Justin!" he repeated more loudly this time. He sat up so he could capture his partner's slickened body in both his hands to still his thrashing. "Come on, wake up!" he almost shouted now. "Come, on, Justin!" he growled commandingly.

Justin suddenly bolted upright, startled out of his deep sleep. "What?" He muttered, his breath coming out in great, rapid heaves. "Leave me alone!" he shouted as he struggled to break free from Brian's strong grasp. "I don't _want_ to!" he cried, twisting violently at his captivity. "No!"

"Justin! Listen to me! It's _Brian_….calm down and take some deep breaths! Come on, Sunshine – look at me!" With relief, he finally noticed the blond's eyes focusing on his own worried hazel ones as the body eventually stilled in recognition. "Brian?" he huffed out breathlessly, looking around their surroundings dazedly. "What happened?" he asked, his eyes taking on more of an alert look now.

Brian breathed out a sigh of relief. "You were having a bad dream or something," his partner told him. He was anxious to hear just what had gotten Justin so upset; the blue eyes were literally glistening with unshed tears because of the subject matter of his dream. "Do you remember anything?" he prodded him gently.

Justin looked out into space, trying to recall what he had been dreaming about. None of it really made any sense to him – the whole thing seemed so outrageous; was his dream based on something real that had actually happened to him? He squeezed his eyes shut, preferring not to capture the horrific images in his mind; but it was no use – the violent pictures were still vividly ingrained there. His eyes fluttered open as he felt two strong, warm hands turn his body and wrap themselves around his shoulders.

"What _is _it?" Brian asked him curiously. "What do you remember?" He fervently hoped it wasn't something that he had done in the past to upset his partner; they had long since moved on from previous episodes of Brian pushing Justin away while he wore his cavalier, non-caring façade in an unsuccessful ruse to show everyone the only thing he was ever concerned about was where his next good fuck was coming from; they had long ago moved beyond that. Hadn't they? He certainly hoped so.

Justin breathed out a couple of calming breaths before he focused his attention back on his partner, who lowered his hands to grasp the slender ones into his lap. "Tell me," he urged the blond, his eyes staring into the face he had long ago memorized – every line and every perfect feature. He could have recognized Justin in pitch darkness as long as he could still feel his beautiful face there.

The face he loved so much was now twisted in hurt and pain as he finally replied, "I…..I was with someone on a street somewhere. I didn't recognize the street or even who I was with. But I was wearing some god-awful pink tee shirt and so was he. Was that _real?_" he asked Brian, whose face clearly showed that it WAS.

Brian closed his eyes briefly in dread; Justin was apparently reliving one of the most trying episodes in their relationship – his damn involvement with that fucker Cody, who thought violence was the only way to get their point across. He had tried hard to keep his mouth shut while Justin was out "saving the world" and making it safe for all queers everywhere; what he had never told his partner, though, was how it had scared the hell out of him while he was involved with the Pink Posse; how terrified he was, especially after he caught Justin with that fucking gun. How he half expected to come home one day to the loft to find a policeman there, telling him that his partner had been shot and kill during some altercation with a straight guy who took offense to their campaign and decided to take care of his problem. Now it appeared that Justin was somehow reliving one of his _adventures_ with the gay avenger, Cody. "Yeah, Sunshine, it was _real_," he reluctantly told him, as Justin frowned; he couldn't understand what his dream was telling him at all. "For a while, you were part of a group that tried to protest against straight people that didn't like fags being openly demonstrative in front of them. You and this _Cody_," Brian couldn't prevent the disdain that dripped from his voice at the sound of that man's name, "would go out on patrol at night, and sometimes I got the impression you actually stirred things up and incited the straight crowd to lash back at you. You came home several times with bruises as your _badge of honor_," he sarcastically told his partner softly, his voice filled with emotion as he recalled how many times his breath had been taken away by seeing the injuries on his lover's body; deep, red rivers of bruises, so contrasting against his partner's pale skin. "It scared the hell out of me, Justin," Brian confessed, surprising even himself at his candor; he had never actually told Justin that previously – even _before_ he lost his memory. Somehow the fact that Justin didn't remember too much of that time in his life made it easier to admit his feelings to him _now_.

Justin's face was full of concern at his partner's admission; had he been so callous about his feelings that he had continued to participate in this activity despite knowing how his partner had felt about it? What kind of partnership was _that_? "I kept doing it, even though you didn't approve?" he asked the brunet, who seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden at his line of questioning.

"It wasn't that exactly," Brian clarified. "You really didn't know just how much it affected me. I found a gun you had one night – I found out later it wasn't loaded. But it scared the shit out of me – the thought that you were carrying around a fucking gun, Justin! And I told you that you were liable to get hurt as a result, but you were so full of anger back then – someone we knew had just been assaulted simply because he liked to dress up in drag and perform songs, for fuck's sake – you were so upset by it that you wouldn't listen to me. You felt like you were invulnerable somehow. But shortly after that you dropped out of the posse – you never really told me why, though," he told his partner softly, probingly. "What about your dream? It obviously had something to do with the posse – at least I never knew you to wear pink before or after that," he told his partner with a slight smile. "Pink was never really your most flattering color, anyway." He tried to say that with a teasing tone, but it did not produce the intended reaction from his partner; Justin, instead, became more sober as he apparently continued to contemplate just what he had dreamed about. "What did you see, Justin?" Brian probed. "Something bad?" he whispered, as his thumbs began to rub tenderly across the blond's knuckles reassuringly.

Justin took a deep breath and nodded. "We…..were together on some street. But we weren't alone. There was another man." He closed his eyes as the memory washed over him; his mind not quite believing the vision he had recalled. "He…he was kneeling on the sidewalk. Brian…" He felt the other man's hands grasp his firmly in comfort, silently urging him to continue. "God, Brian, I had the gun! I don't know if it was the same one or not, but…oh, My God! I was holding it in…..in my hands and I was pointing it at him! And….," Justin bowed his head apparently in shame, unable to meet Brian's gaze. "I told the man to suck on the end of the gun and I had it in his _mouth_ like I was going to shoot him!" He wrenched his hands away from Brian's to place them over his face in shame. "I could hear him….._Cody_…..telling me to _shoot him! _Oh, My God! Brian, did I DO that? Did I _shoot someone?"_ He quickly uncovered his tear-filled eyes to look over desperately at his partner, whose own eyes were quickly filling with unshed tears of horror and sympathy.

As Justin's hands reached out for support, Brian immediately rushed to grasp them firmly; he brought both of them up to his lips to give them both a kiss of reassurance. "No, Justin – God, no!" He hastened to verify. "You did NOT shoot _anyone_! You would _never_ do that, do you _hear me?_" he fiercely told him, his eyes flashing with just the thought that this passionate but gentle soul would _EVER_ do anything remotely like that, no matter how much talk of bravado he may have engaged in. "You could _NEVER_ do anything like that, do you understand?" He reached over to place both of his hands on either side of the ashen face to turn his head to meet his gaze. "I said – do you _understand me?_ I don't know what you saw – it really may have happened – but you never HURT anyone." _Not physically,_ he couldn't help thinking. _If you only knew how much my heart broke almost two weeks ago, you would definitely know how much hurt you were capable of producing to me unintentionally._ He quickly placed that thought in the back of his mind, however; there were more important issues to cover at the moment. "Justin…..do you understand me?" he repeated firmly, until he at last saw his partner nod in awareness.

Brian relaxed his hold on Justin slightly, but still kept his hands on either side of his lover's beautiful face. Slowly, he began to lean over like a moth attracted to a flame; it had been _so_ long…so _fucking_ long. So long since he had felt those lips he knew so well on his own, had tasted the sweet, soft taste of the man he cherished and craved like no other. Locking onto his partner's eyes for any sign of resistance, he was heartened to see none and made the rash, bold decision to take a brief taste of heaven.

Justin's breath hitched slightly as he realized what Brian was silently asking of him; perhaps physically reacquainting himself with Brian's kiss would be healing; at the very least, it would definitely be a new, pleasurable memory to hopefully replace the horrible one he had just recalled in his nightmare. He leaned toward the other man in a subtle invitation to continue, as he noticed his partner's hazel eyes quickly darkening into a sensual, black-tinged hue of desire.

"Justin," Brian almost reverently whispered his name, as his hands began to gently rub across the pale, soft cheeks he was so familiar with. Justin's breath caught in his throat at the much anticipated, tentative tendril of contact – soft but firm lips almost shyly, gently teasing his own, a wet, warm tongue gingerly licking across his own mouth, almost politely asking for deeper entrance. The touch was not wholly familiar, but it was certainly not _unpleasant_, either. He heard a quiet moan now from Brian as he finally opened his lips in a somewhat hesitant, but distinct invitation to deepen their kiss.

_Oh, God._ Just the touch of his lips on his partner's was enough to send Brian's body into sensual, thrilling overdrive. Who would have ever thought just this simple act alone would feel like heaven on earth? As they continued to kiss, he couldn't help his hands from traveling almost of their accord down the pale, well-memorized face to his partner's shoulders, then ever-so-slowly down his slender chest as he began to almost subconsciously rub circles over the small, taut nipples until they stood up like hard pebbles in his well-practiced hands. His heart began to pound furiously as he heard Justin's echoing moan in his ears as they continued to kiss passionately. Brian turned his head to adjust the angle deeper, both mouths so tightly suctioned against each other it was almost as if they were molded together permanently. Brian quickly reached up to grab the back of Justin's neck to push his lips even more firmly against his own as he continued to attack the now-swollen mouth; his other hand possessively snaked around the slim waist to pull his lover's body closer to his; Justin was now almost sitting in his lap, his own hands wrapping themselves around his partner's back as they continued to engage in a dance that Justin did not recall intellectually but both of their bodies knew so very well.

Justin's senses were reeling with sensory overload. The feeling of the warm, roaming, long-tapered hands, the soft but generous lips that were ravaging his own, and the expert tongue laving the inside of his mouth was quickly accelerating his feelings of arousal past the point of no return; if they didn't stop soon, it was going to be too late. He quickly analyzed their situation – would it be so wrong if they simply obeyed what their bodies so desperately wanted and just fucked each other senseless? They were both adults – they were partners, for God's sake! This was obviously what both of them wanted, so why was he even _hesitating?_

But the words Brian had said to him last night echoed in his mind…..

_When we make love again, I want to see that look in your eyes that you always get when we're together. That looks that tells me that you love me, that I'm the only man in your life, and will always be the only man in your life; that I'm your partner in every sense of the word. And as much as it pains me to say it, right now it isn't there._

Brian felt the small, perceptible change in his partner slowly at first; a slight pulling back from their passionate duel. He tried to continue kissing Justin in hopes it was simply a brief respite from their passionate embrace, but after he felt the blond pulling away a little more, he realized he hadn't imagined it. Huge shards of disappointment floated to the surface as he broke their kiss with great reluctance; both men were breathing heavily from exertion, their lips a clear testimonial to their passion for each other. "Justin?" Brian whispered quietly, his face a clear picture of confusion as he bit back a pang of unfulfilled longing. "Did…..did I do something _wrong_?" He almost had to laugh at the absurdity of the question; it wouldn't have been so long ago that he wouldn't have been caught _dead_ worrying about another man's feelings or needs. Before Justin came along, there was only one man Brian Kinney ever worried about – _himself_. He couldn't help marveling at the difference one petite, blond dynamo had made in his life, but he didn't regret it for one second – the benefits he had received had far outweighed what he thought he had given up. In truth, what he had given up hadn't been worth the effort to keep in the first place.

Justin took a few seconds to regain a more normal breathing pattern; this man had made him so fucking aroused with just a few minutes of kissing and caressing; his body definitely knew this man extremely well, and by the mind blowing speed in which the man had made him hard, he knew just what and where to touch him to make him horny as hell. From the looks he was being given at the moment, it appeared _HE_ knew just where to touch this other man, too. Their faces were mirrors of each other's extreme frustration and pent-up yearning for the ultimate coupling.

Justin shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he was doing; but Brian's words last night wouldn't go away. He owed it to him to be honest with the man. "No, Brian," he assured him softly, his breath still coming out in soft pants from their exertion. "You haven't done anything wrong. You've been nothing but patient, loving and honest with me. Believe me," he added, "I realize how hard this has been for you, and how much you've endured the past couple of weeks. I may never be able to truly pay you back." He placed a couple of long fingers gently over the brunet's mouth before his partner had a chance to protest as he continued to explain, "I just can't do this right now," he said regretfully. "I agree with you. When we….._make love_, that's what I want it to be – _LOVE_. You deserve better than just a horny encounter – although I suspect it would be one _hell_ of an encounter," he added ruefully. He twisted his mouth in a plea for patience at the enormous request he was making – for _both _of them. "Can….you understand what I'm saying?" He covered his face with his hands. "Or am I fucking insane now as well as _clueless_?"

Brian grimaced to himself; he and his damn, almost _noble_ notions of gallantry. Only for this man sitting in front of him would he even _suggest_ some an incomprehensible idea. How pitiful had he _become_? So concerned over re-consummating their relationship for the right reasons that he would forsake an opportunity to fuck? He shook his head in disbelief, but he knew the truth – they _both_ knew the truth. This wasn't just another fuck – this was _Justin_. Not completely whole, but still the man he loved so deeply he was willing to wait until the time was right for _both_ of them. As painful as it was to consider, he didn't want to engage in a mindless fuck with him, either – he _wanted _that look of adoration and playful joy in his lover's face when they made love again. If he had to wait a little longer – maybe even a _lot_ longer – then he would fucking just have to _wait_.

Brian sighed in frustration but also resignation and acceptance. "Yes," he whispered softly, nodding his head. "I understand, Sunshine. Only _too well_." He took a deep breath and let it out as he added, "And I agree with you. At least my _head _agrees." He looked down at the painful hard-on still bulging beneath his briefs. "Even if my body_ doesn't_," he growled with a smirk. He smiled a little, though, to let Justin know it was still okay. He reluctantly turned and rose from their bed before he changed his mind and pinned the lithe body to their bed to fuck him thoroughly all day long. He deliberately averted his eyes from his partner's too-tempting body and muttered, "I think I'm going to go fix us some breakfast," he hastily decided. He risked a small glance back to provide a slight smile of encouragement to the younger man, who stared back at him wistfully. "I'll be in the shower first if you need anything," Brian told him before hastily turning toward the bathroom. He briefly longed for his partner to join him like he always did before pushing that non-helpful notion firmly aside and turning the hot spray on full blast, resigned to a quick jacking off to try and relieve the intense physical desire he was still experiencing.

Justin sighed in sorrow and pent-up yearning; how did things get so fucked up? And how long could he expect someone like Brian – a man that practically _oozed sex – _to meekly sit around waiting for him to decide when the time was right? Actually, if he recalled correctly, he _had_ offered his body to him last night – it was his _partner_ who had turned him down, albeit very politely and for very noble reasons. But then why did his body feel so damned empty and unfulfilled? This gallantry and nobility were quickly wearing thin – on _both of them_.

As Brian came out of the shower several minutes later, he looked over at their bedroom and noticed to his relief that Justin had gotten dressed and was putting his shoes on, his back thankfully to his line of vision. He quickly wrapped one of the large, blood red Egyptian towels around his lower body and stepped into the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave. By the time he had finished, Justin had fortunately moved into the living room area, providing Brian with a quick opportunity to completely getting dressed.

He noticed the smell of bacon frying and could hear the distinctive sizzle of the meaty slices as he walked toward the kitchen, observing Justin standing over their stove. How many times had he experienced just this normal but oh-so-familiar ritual each morning when they were together? Justin enjoyed sleeping in late immensely – especially after they had fucked and made love until all hours of the night before – but he enjoyed even more the opportunity to get up before Brian to make breakfast for him. His partner would never indulge in something so laden with grease like the bacon Justin was currently frying, but he could normally persuade him to at least eat some slices of cantaloupe, a couple pieces of whole wheat bread, and an egg-white omelet with him. Watching his partner in front of the stove performing the same, loving ritual now made his heart ache slightly with nostalgic memories of past meals together – when times were so much simpler than they were right now. _Stop it, Kinney, _he admonished himself_ – at least the man's ALIVE_.

He quickly pushed the morose thoughts aside and smiled at his lover as he turned to recognize his approach. "Hey," he greeted him lightly, bending down briefly to bestow a light kiss on the blond's cheek. Justin smiled at him in return. "I hope you're hungry," he told him. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I made a little of everything I could find." He frowned in puzzlement. "Actually, I couldn't find very much – just a little frozen bacon, a couple of eggs, two or three slices of wheat bread, and an overripe cantaloupe. You _do_ eat from time to time, don't you?" he asked in a voice lightly laced with a teasing undertone.

Brian smirked; he had just been thinking yesterday of the need to buy some more groceries. He had almost convinced himself until a few days ago that he would never set foot in this loft ever again – not without the man who was presently standing miraculously next to him. "I was going to go to the grocery today," he informed his partner, who continued to look at him just a little skeptically. "_Really_," he insisted. "I…..just hadn't been here in a while," he explained. "I…_couldn't_. Not without you," he added revealingly, almost shyly.

Justin felt his heart swell at the emotional words being spoken so truthfully and eloquently by this proud, confident, beautiful man. Again he questioned how someone like him had wound up capturing this man's heart so firmly. He sincerely hoped that one day soon he would be able to return the depth of feeling so obvious on his partner's face and in the soft, brown expressive eyes that were flecked with flashes of sparkling gold and staring back at him so intently.

His face flushed and he cleared his throat a little awkwardly under the intense scrutiny. "Well….I'll just have to go _with_ you to the grocery to make sure you buy the right supplies," he lightly retorted, smiling just a little at the man's mock look of abhorrence. "What?" he asked him, curious as to the reaction. Did this man not eat _anything_? "You DO eat food, don't you?" he asked him innocently.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Of _course _I eat food, Sunshine," he retorted, just a little miffed. "But my definition of food is vastly different from the high-carb, sugary, fried shit you are so fond of eating." He shook his head. "Where you pack it away is beyond me. And how the fuck you stay so small is even _more_ of a mystery." He noticed the sudden look of _déjà vu _again on his partner's face and stopped. "What?" he asked him as he walked over to stand closer to him at the stove, being careful not to get _too_ close as the bacon began to send smattering pops of grease into the air. He bit down a glare of reproach at what his partner's high-temperature bacon frying was sending onto his stovetop as he waited for a response.

_This smells like yak shit. Will it make me SMALL? I'm hoping it will make you very, very LARGE._

Justin frowned at the recollection; more like a very brief flash of memory. For he somehow knew without a doubt that it WAS a memory. He didn't know how – he just _knew_. He shook his head to return to the present as he noticed Brian continuing to stare silently at him, the question unspoken again on his lips. "I….I just _remembered _something," he stated, this time with more certainty than he had previously. "You were lying on your side on the floor on some type of pillow, I think, and I gave you something in a cup that you said smelled like _yak shit_. I can remember you asking me if it would make you small, and I told you I was hoping it would make you…."

"Very, very _large_!" Brian completed for him; he smiled radiantly and unexpectedly scooped his partner up by the thighs to hoist him up in the air, the startled blond still holding his spatula in his hand.

"Brian!" he laughed. "Put me _down_!" he demanded, none too firmly, however; his partner's joy was too contagious. Brian finally placed him back on the floor but still held him loosely in his arms as he continued to smile at him elatedly. "You _remembered_ that, Sunshine! Do you _realize _you said you _remembered _that?" He couldn't help quickly pulling the other man to him briefly for a sound kiss on the lips before he released him. "You fucking _remembered_ that!"

Justin couldn't help smiling back at him. "Yeah….but why was I giving you something that smelled like yak shit?" he asked. "We didn't get into a fight and I was trying to _poison you_, was I?" he asked facetiously.

Brian smirked. "Well, it certainly _tasted_ like poison, but I can assure you your motives were purely altruistic," he confirmed as a sudden serious look passed over his face.

Justin stopped smiling at the abrupt change to his partner's previous look of absolute joy. "Then why _WAS_ I giving you that, Brian? What was it _for? _Huh? Tell me," he pressed the other man, transmitting a look that he wanted a straight answer to his question.

Brian paused; he really had preferred not to get in the middle of the big "C" issue; he would have rather postponed that conversation for a later time; hopefully by the time it became a subject at all, Justin would have all of his memory back and it would have been unnecessary. He could tell now that his hopes were premature; they were going to have to discuss it _now_.

Justin switched off the burner, placed the spatula down in the pan and turned to face his partner, his hands crossed in expectation. "About two years ago, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer," Brian said simply, keeping his voice even to try and not make a big deal out of it; he knew how emotionally fragile his partner was at the moment and the last thing he wanted was to give him any more to worry about. He rushed to reassure the blond, who he could tell was gearing up for an emotional entreaty about his health. "I'm _fine_ now – the cancer is _gone_, Justin – completely gone. I just have to get yearly checkups, that's all. But I feel just fine and it's a non-issue now. As for the _yak shit_, it was some type of horrendous herbal tea Michael snookered you into getting me to try in hopes it would _rekindle my life gate." _He smiled and waggled his eyebrows suggestively in hopes that Justin would understand just what the hell that meant.

"_Rekindle your life gate?"_ he repeated, grinning. "Did you get that line from some foreign soap opera or something?" he retorted. "Maybe an old episode of _Kung Fu_? I heard David Carradine was into some pretty kinky shit, you know."

Brian smiled at the quip. "No….you got that from some Chinese shyster down in Chinatown," he informed him, laughing to himself at the unintentional alliteration. "Who knows how much money he swindled out of you for _that_ one? With _your_ sex appetite, it was probably a fucking mint."

Justin glared at him in mock resentment. Somehow he had the feeling if the roles had been reversed, Brian would have done the same thing and paid _any_ amount if he could have gotten their sex life back on track. His show of false annoyance gave way to concern, however, as he pressed the brunet, "Are you _sure_ about your condition, Brian? You're not just telling me that so I won't worry?" He put both of his hands on the other man's biceps to get his attention. "Huh?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Justin," he assured the other man, looking him directly in the eyes to verify his statement. "I've never lied to you before, and I won't lie to you _now_," he vowed clearly.

Justin nodded in relief; this man was becoming more and more important to him. The facets to partner's life were multi-layered and so complex, so fascinating; he couldn't wait to find out as much about him as he possibly could.

He realized his carefully-constructed breakfast was quickly becoming cold. "Your breakfast's getting cold," he told his partner, quickly looking around for plates. "Where are your plates, Brian?"

Brian smirked. "You mean _paper plates_, Mr. Taylor? That's your normal manner of elegant dining around here – less dishes to wash, you see." He motioned above Justin's head as the blond opened the cabinet to discover a stash of several hundred, thick white paper plates. Brian smirked knowingly as Justin pulled a few down from the bottom shelf of the cabinet and placed the oil-drenched bacon onto some paper towels to soak up the grease. Brian shook his head in disgust at the scene as he turned, instead, to grab a slice of some mushy cantaloupe which was still thankfully edible, at least more edible than the strip of bacon Justin quickly stuck in his mouth with a resounding crunch.

"Bacon?" Justin asked him, holding out the greasy plate to him in compromise. Brian snorted. "Not in _this_ lifetime, Sunshine," he quipped, reaching instead for a piece of dry wheat toast.

"Ew," Justin muttered. "You're eating that bread _dry_?" he asked incredulously. "How can you EAT it _that way_?" he wondered, shaking his head in repugnance.

"One man's piece of shit is another man's sustenance, Sunshine," he replied smartly. "Too much pork will put _too much pork_ somewhere else," he philosophized, reaching out to pat the still-trim belly of his partner, who promptly smacked him on the hand for his impertinence. That simply prompted Brian, however, to laugh at his partner's adorable look of resentment. _God, it felt so fucking good to LAUGH for a change_, he couldn't help thinking.

Rubbing his hands rapidly to divest them of any remaining crumbs of toast, he announced to his partner, who was quickly inhaling his own breakfast, "Time for another trip down _memory lane_, Sunshine."

Justin looked at him with great interest. "Where to?" he asked him curiously.

Brian knew there were a few more people to reintroduce his lover to; one in particular he wasn't necessarily looking forward to seeing again – Blake, Teddy's latest and greatest love. Despite his not-so-great impression of the man, he still owed him an apology; he was going to have to tuck his fucking tail behind his legs and tell him he was right – he _had_ seen Justin that day at Babylon. "I'm going to make a couple of calls and ask some of your friends you haven't seen yet to meet us at Babylon – or Pulse, whatever you prefer to call it. This time I'm taking you inside in hopes you'll recognize part of the old club somewhere in all that remodeling." He twisted his mouth a little in regret. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't decided to change everything so drastically there," he admitted to his partner. "If I hadn't, maybe you would have recognized some of it that day and we wouldn't have had to be apart for so long." He didn't tell Justin that every day – every additional _second_, even – was sheer torture until he had been reunited with him again. He wasn't going to make that mistake ever again.

Justin reached up to place a warm, soft hand tenderly on the side of Brian's face. "You had no way of knowing," he whispered tenderly. "We're here _now_ – that's all that matters anymore." He stroked the brunet's cheek a few times before removing his hand, but Brian still felt the warmth lingering on his face there anyway. "Why don't I _clean the dishes_ while you make those calls?" he suggested, smiling as he began to scoop up the paper plates and what little silverware he needed to clean.

Brian nodded but stood standing there for a few seconds, watching his partner puttering around their kitchen as if he had never left. He knew there were still a lot of holes in returning their relationship to the way it was, but maybe for the first time since his partner's miraculous return, he felt a true sense of hopefulness washing over him. He gave Justin a brief smile and nod of agreement as he turned to the living room to retrieve his cell phone for their trip to put in place his partner's next stop on _Memory Lane_. The place where it all began - Babylon.


	35. Chapter 35: A Grudging Apology

**_A/N: Sorry this one's a little shorter than normal (for me "short" means something different than most writers, I guess - you know my chapters tend to turn out as more of "mini-sagas" normally - LOL!), but I wanted to give the faithful followers of this story an update tonight and it seemed like a good breaking point for it at the end of this chapter. I'll try to finish another chapter for the story either tomorrow or Tuesday - thanks as always for the continuing feedback - it's GREAT!)_**

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_Babylon/Pulse – Saturday Afternoon_

Justin felt a definite sense of déjà vu as Brian slowed down in front of his club. The feeling wasn't due to remembering it from before his accident; it was actually due to the recent side trip he and Andrew had made in an attempt to rekindle some of Justin's memories. After Brian had explained how many radical changes he had made to the old Babylon to turn it into a brand new club with a brand new name to match, Justin realized how fruitless it had probably been to try and jog his memory. The club wouldn't have resonated anyway with all the remodeling Brian had done; Justin would have only remembered it from before the changes were made.

Still, he was hopeful that with Brian by his side, and his ability to see the inside this time as well as the outside, perhaps this would be the day that his memory came rushing back in abundance. He knew somewhere deep in his heart that it probably would never happen that way, but he still held out hope that maybe he would be proven wrong somehow.

"You've been awfully quiet on the drive over here," Brian commented softly, interrupting Justin's thoughts. He turned to look at the brunet as they sat in his 'Vette in front of the club; the look on his partner's face was both one of concern as well as curiosity. "What are you thinking about?" he asked him, his eyes gazing at him thoughtfully.

Justin looked down in his lap. "I was just thinking about the other time I had been here last week…..with Andrew," he admitted.

He didn't see the fleeting look of jealousy that appeared briefly on his partner's face at the sound of the doctor's name; even though Justin was firmly back in his life, and they had made some headway in restoring their previous relationship, the thought of his partner sharing his life with another man still made Brian seethe with resentment. Just when Justin needed him the most, he wasn't there – that _other_ man was. That thought would haunt him for a long time – until his partner hopefully regained his memory of just what the two of them meant to each other.

"Brian?" He glanced over at the blond at the sound of his name being called. He forced a slight smile of reassurance on his face as he told his partner, "Let's go in, okay?" Justin nodded as they mutually opened the car doors and got out. Brian searched in his pocket for the key to the entrance door; as he jiggled it in his left hand, he extended his right hand out to his partner; to his relief, Justin reached out to grasp it easily and without any further urging. He felt reassured by the warmth of that hand held so tightly in his as they walked together up to the steps of the old Babylon.

Brian swung the door open widely to allow Justin a comprehensive look at the newly-refurbished _Pulse_. The old dark dance floor had been completely redone in a futuristic, techno look awash with chrome and black marble. The new two-tiered dance floor was constructed so it would slowly revolve while the music was being played, and the bar was now on two levels for easier access. Thankfully the back room was still intact, where so many memories of the two of them together – mostly happy ones, some not-so-good ones, and some just plain sad and discouraging ones – had been carved. Even the back room, however, had been cleaned and repainted a different color and the configuration had been reshaped to offer more privacy for couples, so even IT would not seem very familiar to Justin now, either. For the second time in less than 24 hours, Brian felt a tinge of regret that he had not left the old club intact as it was; perhaps the club, above every place else, would have held the key to Justin regaining his memory. After all, it was right outside this club that first night where his and Justin's destinies had intertwined to be firmly joined forever. What was done was done, however, and it could not be changed now. Brian's main source of hope today, then, lay in Justin's friends he had invited over this afternoon. He also recalled he owed an apology to Blake, something he was not particularly looking forward but still nevertheless felt was necessary.

He looked over now at Justin, and his heart caught in his throat as he stared at his partner standing in the middle of the dance floor as he studied all the nuances of the club. The picture of him standing there brought back so many happy memories of nights they had stood in almost that same exact spot, their bodies swaying as one to the electrifying pulse of the hard-beating music; Justin's hands braced around his waist as his own arms were casually draped over the slender shoulders. A sudden inspiration hit him. "Justin, stay there," he commanded softly, as he rushed over to the newly-improved sound system he had had installed the week before. He had replaced all of the old songs with new ones, so unfortunately he couldn't play one that Justin would easily recognize; for now, one of the new songs would have to do. Quickly making a choice, he punched in the necessary code and pushed the _play_ button. As the music softly rose in volume, he jumped down to rejoin his lover.

Justin's face shone in the soft spotlight shining overhead; his blond hair almost glowed and his blue eyes sparkled in the light. Brian never thought he looked more beautiful than he did at that moment, and he felt his eyes misting over with nostalgia mixed in with a little melancholy – sadness for what was now and longing for what might never be again. But they still had to keep _trying; _to Brian there was simply no other option.

He held out his hand to find that it was shaking slightly. "Dance with me, Justin," he whispered almost reverently, holding his breath for a moment he never thought he would ever experience again.

Justin stood there transfixed for a few seconds; a sensory array of sound, sight, and touch assailed him as he placed his hand in Brian's and felt the man gently tug him toward his body as an upbeat version of the old Frankie Valli song began to play overhead:

"_You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you, you'd be like heaven to touch, I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived, and I thank God I'm alive, 'cause you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you." _

Brian gently pulled Justin into his arms as the song continued, closing his eyes in relief and pleasure as he felt the old, familiar feeling of his partner's body molding into his. It was the same touch, the same fit, the same, uniquely Justin smell that he knew so well and loved like nothing – and no one – else. He breathed out a sigh of completion as he recalled how many nights they had spent here, just like this in each other's arms, nothing but the two of them in the whole fucking world, no matter _how_ many other guys were packed into the club at the same time. When they were together, no one or nothing else existed. It was that way then, and to Brian, it was that way still. He could only hope that soon Justin would one day feel the same way he did as they continued to rock gently to the hypnotic beat of the old love song. He felt his heart start beating faster as Justin nestled his head on his chest; Brian automatically tucked his head on top of the soft blond hair possessively, just the way he had done so many times before. They continued to sway to the music softly for several minutes, until their intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice gasping in disbelief, "Holy _Shit!_"

The two men stopped their motion and lifted their heads simultaneously to observe a pair of men standing about 10 feet away, both wearing identical looks of stunned shock on their faces as they stared at Brian's dancing partner.

Ted slowly approached the couple, unsure whether he was imagining the scene or not; he had _tried_ very hard to believe what Blake had told him before about seeing Justin, but even he had had to admit the very notion had been impossible; now, standing in front of him and looking rather perplexed himself, was the "impossible" _LIVING proof_. "I…..I don't _believe_ this," he stated breathlessly, as Blake followed closely behind him, eyes big as saucers as he stared at the same man he had seen a few days before. "Teddy….do you see who _I _see?" Blake asked in a hushed voice, unsure whether to believe his eyes or not, especially after the extremely intense haranguing he had received from Brian Kinney earlier in the week.

"I'm….I'm not sure," Ted stammered, looking from Brian to Justin and back to Brian for an answer. "Justin? How in the fuck is this _possible?_" he cried in disbelief, searching both their faces for a plausible explanation for Justin's seeming return from the ranks of the dead.

The song they had been dancing to thankfully ended soon after, enabling them to converse easier; Ted and Blake, however, were too shocked at the moment to utter anything further. "Let's go sit down," Brian finally suggested, motioning with his hand toward the newly-refurbished bar as Ted and Blake continued to stand there speechless. The couple looked at each other, both wondering if maybe they were both sleepwalking at the moment, before Ted shrugged his shoulders and took Blake's hand to lead him over to one of the chrome barstools. Brian placed his arm around Justin's slender shoulder and led him, too, over to the bar; as the blond took a seat nearby, Brian walked around behind the counter and started to pull out a bottle of Beam; glancing over at Ted, he thought better of it and instead quickly reached for the spring water tap to pour a glass for each of them. He figured Ted was in enough shock at the moment; he didn't need the slightest temptation to drink right now because there was undoubtedly reason enough sitting quietly right next to him.

"I…I don't know where to start," Ted began, stammering. He continued to stare at Justin in shock, not able to believe the man was actually sitting there as if nothing had happened to him. "I don't understand," he finally said, his mouth hanging helplessly open in utter confusion; he looked over at Brian for an answer when Justin remained strangely quiet.

Brian handed each of the men a glass of water before he began adamantly, "First of all, let me make something clear. Justin's sudden return from the dead, if you will, wasn't some type of sick joke either one of us was playing on his friends. I didn't even know he was alive until a couple of days ago." Brian deliberately didn't glance over at Blake, because he could already feel the unspoken comment just dying to roll from his lips: _you would have known he WAS alive if you had only listened to me._

Ted continued to stare at his young friend, mystified as to how this was possible. "But….if you only found out a few _days_ ago, where the hell has he _been_?" he asked pointedly. It had been almost two _weeks_ since Justin had "died;" just what the fuck was going on here? "I seem to recall Blake _tried_ to tell you Justin was alive a fucking _week_ ago and you wouldn't believe him!" he reminded his boss, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "Now he just shows up here out of the blue and we're supposed to act like _nothing happened?"_

Brian sought to placate his assistant as he worriedly looked over at Justin; his partner was normally a proud, self-sufficient, and independent man; but when he was upset, or when his world was turned upside down, like it had been so many times before, he inexplicably became withdrawn and fearful, much like he was looking now. His eyes were misting over in pain and his entire body seemed as if it were trying to shrink back into a protective shell. Brian couldn't help it when he thought Justin was being hurt, no matter _what_ type of apology he owed Blake. At the first hint of impropriety leveled at his partner, his hackles were instantly raised.

"Now just a minute," Brian growled at Ted, just like a protective mother bear defending its cub. "Justin _was _in that fucking train accident, just like everyone thought! What everyone _didn't_ know was that he survived the so-called, _unsurvivable_ train wreck and wound up losing his memory as a result! So to answer your question, _Mr. Schmidt_," Brian continued, his voice full of icy scorn and contempt for his assistant's seeming lack of compassion toward his partner, "Justin didn't fucking _remember_ his own name, let alone anyone _else_ he used to know! It was pure luck that I happened to find out he was alive when I went to Harrisburg on business, so don't go trying to rip him a new one for something he had no _control over!_" His face was quickly reddening with anger at the thought anyone would assume someone as kind and sensitive as his partner would resort to such underhanded, sick tactics in order to play a joke on them.

"Brian," Justin suddenly spoke up so softly Ted almost didn't hear him. "It's all right," he told his partner gently, as he placed a slender hand over the other man's trembling one. Brian lifted his gaze to stare into his partner's eyes intently, trying silently to agree with him that he understood why Ted might have thought what he did, but he was still angry over the assumption the man had made.

"Okay, okay," Ted said apologetically, raising his hands in regret for his outburst. "I'm _sorry_." He looked over directly at Justin to repeat in a softer voice, "I'm _sorry_, Justin. I didn't know," he offered by way of explanation. "What do the doctors say about your memory loss? It's just temporary, right?"

Justin's face flickered with just a hint of pain as he replied simply in a whisper, "They don't know." He let out a small huff of breath before he continued, changing the subject so he did not have to dwell on the issue that occupied his every waking thought and dream lately. "I can understand your reaction to me. The whole thing _is_ pretty unbelievable." He looked over at Blake, who sat on the other side of him at the bar. "I was told you actually saw me outside the club last Saturday and tried to tell Brian about it." He smiled wistfully at the other blond. "I…appreciate what you tried to do. It must have been pretty hard for you to say what you did to Brian, knowing what his response would probably be," he told the other man insightfully.

Blake nodded, surprised but grateful that Justin would realize how difficult it had been for him to approach Brian about his partner; he should have expected the man's reaction to the news, but at the time he knew he had to _try_ anyway. It was just dumb luck that despite Brian's refusal to believe his story, somehow he had still found out the truth, even though it was a few days later. It _did_ explain a great deal, however, except for one small detail. "That man who were with," he mentioned. "Was he a friend?" he asked innocently. He noticed a little anxiously, however, that at the sound of Justin's companion being mentioned, Brian's eyes narrowed with anger for some reason.

"That's not important," Brian retorted curtly; Justin looked over at him, a little surprised by his anger. He was with _him_ now; was he still resentful of Andrew even _now?_ "Brian," he chided him gently as he squeezed the tanned hand lying under his, trying to diffuse the situation. How did an attempt to apologize to Blake wind up becoming such a tense interlude? He decided he would just have to handle what Brian for some reason seemed unable to do at the moment. He turned to the man sitting on his other side and told him sincerely, "Blake….I want to thank you for trying to tell Brian about me. That was pretty brave of you, considering the circumstances. I appreciate what you tried to do for me," he repeated.

Blake nodded; Justin wouldn't have even recognized him that day if he had seen him on the street, and he supposed he really couldn't blame Brian, either. If he looked at the situation from Brian's point of view, it _would_ have sounded outrageous; after all, everyone had been certain Justin was dead. He supposed this was one reason why you should never say never. In the case of Brian and Justin, however, it seemed like they always seemed to persevere eventually, no matter _what_ happened. He had never really interacted all that much with Justin, either before he and Teddy had broken up, or after they had been reunited just before Justin had left for New York to pursue his career. But he still liked the young artist, and always felt that Justin, unlike Brian, was willing to try and give him the benefit of the doubt and reserve judgment on his character before he had all the facts. "I really am glad you survived the accident," he told Justin, who smiled back at him gratefully.

Ted was still trying to digest the fact that Justin and Brian were sitting there at the bar, casually having drinks with him and Blake, just like they all used to do so many times before. The whole situation seemed so surreal, kind of like an episode of the _Twilight Zone_. While he certainly was glad that Justin was actually alive, he was still a little perturbed at his boss for being so hard on his boyfriend a week ago when all he was trying to do was help; in fact, Blake seemed to be more forgiving of the man than HE was. "I'm glad, too, Justin," Ted told the blond sincerely. He turned back toward Brian, though, to add, "But _you_…" Brian looked at him, surprised by his boldness, which was so unlike Ted normally. Ted, though, however grateful he might be to Brian for his job, was not to be intimidated this time, no matter _what_ the consequences might be. "_YOU_ owe Blake an apology," he told his boss flatly, meeting him directly in the eyes.

Brian grimaced; the man was right – he _did_ owe the man's boyfriend an apology. He sighed silently in resignation. He fucking _hated_ to admit he was wrong to _anyone_ – especially to his normally meek employee and to Blake, the former addict now turned drug counselor, of all things. But in this case, he would just have to bite the bullet and admit he was wrong – God, he hated that word! He took a deep breath before stumbling through the distasteful statement. "I'm….._sorry_, Blake," he choked out haltingly. "I…..should have listened to what you had to say. You have to realize, though, how unbelievable what you told me sounded," he added by way of defense, actually directing the last comment more to Ted. Surely the man had to agree how impossible Blake's story had sounded to him.

Ted peered at his boss; he knew how hard Justin's "death" had been on him; the man had hardly eaten or slept for the first week and a half and was mainly functioning on autopilot during that time. And if he were truthful with himself, he would have to agree that Blake's claim to have seen Justin WAS highly unlikely, given the situation. Perhaps if the roles had been reversed, then, he would have reacted the same way.

Ted and Blake shared a look of mutual understanding among them; the fact that they could practically read each other's minds was what had partly led Ted to let Blake back into his life permanently in the first place. Now they both seemed to intrinsically realize that they needed to give Brian some slack here. "I guess you're right," Ted told his boss quietly as Blake nodded in agreement. "It…would have seemed pretty unbelievable if _you_ had told me the same thing about Blake."

Brian grunted, relieved that the tense situation had finally, apparently been diffused. He looked over at Justin, whose eyes had fluttered closed while he sat at the bar while the rest of the group discussed him. His face looked paler than normal, and he seemed to be wobbling slightly on his seat. "Justin?" he called out softly, his voice full of concern; his partner looked worn out. He watched as the blond slowly opened his eyes to refocus on him. "I think it's time to go," Brian decided spontaneously, rising from his own stool to approach his tired partner. Justin opened his mouth to speak but was spared the need as Brian firmly stated, "No arguments, Sunshine. You're dead on your feet." He winced at his choice of words. "What I mean is – you look like you're worn out." He reached out to slowly pull his partner onto his feet. "Come on – you need to get some rest."

Justin might have normally argued with him – he was getting _extremely_ tired of that word – but he had to admit to himself that he honestly _was_ tired – despite his hope for a quick recovery, he found that it didn't seem to take much before his arm and head began to ache and his entire body felt like it was made of lead. So for once, he didn't try to protest, as he slowly slid off the stool, his hand firmly grasped protectively in his partner's. He felt Brian's thumb slowly rubbing across the top of his hand in an intuitive caress as they were followed out of the club by Ted and Blake.

As Brian locked the door behind them, the group stood for a few minutes by the entrance; by now Justin was becoming accustomed to being the subject of ongoing stares by those who were his friends. They all seemed to have the same look of incredulous disbelief, even after they have discovered his miraculous "return from the dead." He guessed it was apparently going to take some time before everyone no longer looked at him that way. He glanced over at Brian, who was the only person who did not seen to stare at him that way; rather, he often caught the man looking at him lingeringly with a mixture of love and just a little sadness. He squelched the sudden reappearance of his guilty conscious once again to divert his attention to Ted and Blake, who bid him a welcome back and a goodbye, telling him they would no doubt run him into him again soon.

At last the two men were left to themselves; without the club being officially open yet – Brian had pushed back _Pulse's _grand opening to next weekend – the street was surprisingly empty of people. "It's not _always_ this quiet, is it?" Justin asked him as they walked hand in hand toward Brian's 'Vette.

Brian laughed. "Hardly," he answered. "Normally on a Saturday night there would be a _ton_ of people around the club. Just wait until next week – I'm going to be advertising the shit out of the grand opening in the papers, around town, and on the radio – so it will be business even more than usual then." He bit his lip in thought, not quite sure how to approach a subject he was concerned about. "I don't know if it's such a good idea for you to attend," he told his partner quietly.

"Why?" Justin asked him, puzzled. "I would think being in familiar surroundings would be good for me," he maintained.

Brian, however, wasn't so convinced that this was the venue to prove that theory; on the contrary, he was worried about the consequences of his partner's return to a place in which he would be extremely familiar to most everyone who would be attending. "Justin, it's going to be wall-to-wall people, many of who will no doubt recognize you in a heartbeat. After all, you were virtually a fixture at Babylon for years until you moved to New York. Are you sure you want your "miraculous return" advertised so publicly? I remember after your bashing what happened – you were overwhelmed by all the people surrounding you everywhere you went after the trial, wanting to know how you were and all giving their opinions as to what should have happened to the fucker that assaulted you and got off practically scot free. I'm not sure, then, that appearing at the reopening of the club would be such a good idea right now." He always despised bringing up the subject of his partner's bashing – it never failed to cause him a flicker of pain inside – but he felt it was important to bring it up it in order to get his point across.

Justin tried to see Brian's point of view – he understood his concerns, he really did, but he was quickly becoming impatient with having to be shielded from the rest of the world. Everyone was going to find out soon about his surviving the accident anyway; even though his friends had made a vow to keep quiet about his return until he and Brian had decided the moment was right, he figured it was only a matter of time before someone divulged their secret unintentionally. It was only human nature – the longer it was kept secret, the more probability there was that someone would let it slip.

Brian could tell by Justin's expression that he wasn't happy with his opinion; he could tell by the frown on his beautiful face and the slight downturn of his lips. "Justin…" he began.

As they reached the 'Vette, Justin waved his free hand in a request for him to stop talking. "Don't say it," he said a little crossly. "I understand your reasoning. But Brian, I can't stay sequestered like a fucking monk forever. Everyone's going to find out anyway. We're going to have to face it sometime. Besides, I really think it's important for me to be exposed to the places I used to frequent. Don't you agree?"

Brian was torn; his partner had a point – he agreed it _was_ important for Justin to reacquaint himself with all the places the two of them had frequented – the diner, PIFA, Kinnetik, and Woody's to name a few – but did it have to be in such a crowded and flamboyant manner? But glancing over at Justin, he realized how tired he looked at the moment and he made an impromptu decision to shelve their disagreement for another time. "Sunshine…..You make some good points," he admitted softly. "But why don't we think about it a little more? We've still got some time to make a decision about whether you should attend _Pulse's _grand opening. And you're scheduled to go see Dr. Keller on Monday. Maybe he'll have some more information for us about your condition; that might help us decide the best way for you to be reintroduced to the rest of gay Pittsburgh," he quipped. "Okay?" He squeezed his partner's hand tenderly as he gazed at the blue eyes he knew so well; eyes that were currently displaying both a little fatigue and uncertainty about what to do.

At the moment, Justin had to concede he was too tired to continue to argue about it. Maybe Brian was right – he was anxious as well to see Dr. Keller Monday and see what the neurologist had to say about his condition. He was both looking forward to it and dreading it; it would all depend upon what the doctor had to say. He didn't want to voice it aloud to Brian, but he couldn't help placing all of his hopes on what this doctor who had treated him previously would say; he prayed that it would be good news. He was slowly remembering miniscule bits and pieces of his life, but he still had a long way to go. The thought of not recalling everything, or if he did, not regaining his memories for years to come, filled him with sorrow and heartache. He was also worried that eventually Brian would simply tire of waiting for him to remember what he should feel for him and find someone else who could reciprocate his feelings properly.

He heaved a heavy sigh of sadness; he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for himself. He felt guilty about feeling that way, but he couldn't help it; he wanted his life back, including ALL of his memories.

"Justin?" He looked over at Brian, who was continuing to stroke his hand as he leaned against the car, waiting for his answer. Justin looked at him tenderly – this man had been so patient and loving with him since the moment he had laid eyes on him again in Andrew's apartment. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was deserving of his love; right now he was nothing but a broken shell of the man he once was. But if Brian was willing to work on finding their way back to their previous relationship, then so was he; he owed him that much – and so much more. "Okay," he agreed, a slight smile on his face as he tried to reassure his partner he was willing to defer further discussion until after they met with the doctor on Monday. "We'll wait until I see the doctor and talk about it later."

Brian squeezed his hand briefly before releasing it. "Good," he said, relieved, as he walked around to the driver's side of the car. As Justin opened the passenger door and got in, he glanced one last time at the place he had frequented so often in the past and had visited just last week with Andrew. Would it ever be familiar to him again?

Brian could feel the seeds of doubt still growing fertilely in Justin's mind. He wanted so badly to say or do something that would reassure him that he would recover fully; but he had promised Justin he would always tell him the truth, so he couldn't in good conscience provide the soothing words he would have longed to give him. As they pulled away from the curb, he could only wish desperately that the news they received on Monday would be what they both wanted to hear.


	36. Chapter 36:  Emmett and Clearing the Air

_Liberty Diner – Sunday Morning _

"One more gripe about your flat pancakes and your ass is going to be flat on the fucking _floor!_"

Michael chuckled at his mother's familiar banter as he entered the diner; it was only when he _didn't_ hear her sarcastic quips that he knew something was wrong. Of course, since one of her _other _long-lost "sons" had magically reappeared from the dead a couple of days ago, everything seemed right with the world again. He only wished he could be sure that Brian presently felt the same way. He _had been _encouraged to see the dramatic change in his best friend – his eyes were no longer carrying the same flat, lost, and tragic look from before, and his face no longer possessed the haunted, sleepless expression. He at least had _hope_ back in his life, now that Justin had returned. Michael still couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that seemed to settle upon him, however; he only prayed that he would turn out to be wrong, for both Brian _and_ Justin's sakes.

He was so wrapped up in his thought that he didn't notice a familiar face sitting nearby. "Michael!" He turned at the boisterous sound of his name to look over at the counter to spy Emmett, who was waving at him furiously. "Get _OVER _here!" his friend commanded him. "Just _where_ have you been _keeping yourself, Dumpling?"_ the flamboyant friend chided him. "I thought Ben let you out to mingle with the rest of us boys every once in a while, at least."

His face red with embarrassment at the mention of his pseudo fairy name, Michael walked hurriedly up to the counter and took an adjacent stool as he noticed other guys nearby snickering at the endearment. "Em," he whispered, leaning over closely in a mock display of irritation, "Will you can the fucking _Dumpling _crap? I had a hard enough time living down the day you dressed me in drag for the Pride Parade," he cracked, even though he had to admit, he had actually made one pretty hot broad. And giving that asshole co-worker of his a big, fat kiss while he was dressed up was the icing on the cake. He looked over at Emmett and shook his head in resignation. There was no way that he could really be mad at his friend; nobody could really stay aggravated at Emmett for long – the man so seldom took anything seriously that he always made Michael smile. He decided he could use some of that right about now to get his mind off Brian's situation.

"I couldn't help myself," Emmett announced dramatically. "_Clear Day_ just came back from channeling his inner self once again," he told his friend with a smile as he swept an imaginary long swipe of his hair Cher-like off his shoulder.

"Oh, no," Michael answered with a knowing smile. "Don't tell me you went back to that fairy paradise _again_?" he groaned.

"Why, yes I did," Emmett verified proudly. "Clear Day was _born again_, much to the delight of every fairy there. I definitely was the best-dressed queer there. Even got an award for it," he bragged.

"What – some wig shampoo and a magic wand?" Michael asked facetiously.

Em snorted. "Hardly….I'll have you know I received an autographed copy of Ru Paul's latest book: _Don't Let Life Be a Drag."_

Michael rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother," he quipped. "I'm so sorry I couldn't attend. I'm jealous. That definitely doesn't compare with a quiet dinner at home with Ben and watching a movie at home..alone…with no Hunter…..no Jenny Rebecca…." His face took on a dreamy look as he sighed, "Don't get me wrong, Em, I love both the kids – but a little down time with Ben is _sooooooo nice _once in a while_." _

Emmett smirked. "I wouldn't know, Honey…I was so excited when Drewsie and I got back together, but since we did, he's been away at football camp. Why the hell do they need to camp out to play football anyway?" he asked, puzzled, as Michael laughed. Emmett knew every fashion maven from her to L.A., but obviously his friend had a long way to go before he completely understood the intricacies of football.

"Hey, Boys!" Debbie rushed up to the two men, reaching over to place a red lipstick stain on Michael's cheek with a resounding smack and to tousle Emmett's hair. Emmett noticed if it was possible, Debbie seemed even more upbeat that she _normally_ did, which was saying a LOT for her. "Gee, Deb, you sure seem to be in a great mood," he observed, smiling.

"You_ bet your ass_!" she practically screamed, laughing boisterously.

Emmett couldn't help smiling back at her in return, although he didn't have a _clue_ what she was so happy about. He was extremely curious, however; this was over the top, even for Debbie. "What's got you so excited, Deb?" he wondered. "Are you and Carl finally tying the knot?"

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder as if he was joshing her. "Oh, _come on, Emmett_," she chided him, smiling. "I've got my _Sunshine_ back! Why do you THINK I'm smiling, huh? Isn't it just fucking_ unbelievable?"_ she asked him, still somewhat incredulous herself even a few days after her discovery. It was so wonderful to know that the boy she had literally watch grow up from a teeny bopper kid with a king-sized crush on Brian into a mature, passionate, kind young man that she loved as much as her own son was _ALIVE_. She shook her head at the miracle, still beaming at the thought.

Emmett looked at her and then Michael, who seemed to have the same look, although his expression appeared to be more subdued. He frowned in total confusion. "Uh…..pardon me, Deb, but _what the hell are you TALKING about?"_ he demanded. Somehow he didn't think she was discussing the weather.

A light bulb went off in Michael's head before his mother had a chance to respond "Oh, my God," Michael blurted out, clapping his hand over his mouth as a sudden epiphany of understanding assaulted him. "You _don't know_." It was a statement, not a question. He looked up at his mother, who by the look on her face was quickly reaching the same conclusion. "About Justin. _You don't know, do you?"_ In the confusion and stunned revelations of the past few days, he had somehow automatically assumed that all of Justin's friends had been told. At least the ones that _had been in town._

Emmett shook his head as if his friend was daft. "Know _what?"_ he asked him. An odd look, a flicker of understanding passed between Michael and his mom before Debbie nodded her head in encouragement and Michael began, "Well, hold onto your fairy dust, Clear Day. Dumpling here is about to tell you something that will definitely qualify as a _fairy tale_."

* * *

_Sunday Morning – An Hour Later; Brian's Loft_

As the sun's harsh mid-morning rays poured unforgiving through the tall windows of the loft, Brian lay in bed on his back, briefly squinting his eyes shut against the intrusion; his arm instinctively reached over to reassure himself that his partner was still in their bed and to cradle the soft body against his. As he came up instead with an empty sheet and a cool mattress, he immediately came awake, turning onto his side to confirm Justin wasn't there. A brief flash of panic set in as he sat up and looked around the loft; only after he finally spied his partner over at the couch did his breathing return entirely back to normal.

He rose, clad only in his briefs, to silently walk down the bedroom step toward the living room and stop a few paces from the couch to observe Justin unobtrusively. His partner, who was not only awake but already dressed, had his back to him, his legs pulled up on the seat with his arms folded over his knees and his head lying on his hands as he looked out the windows pensively to the city waking up outside. Brian's heart broke a little as he heard a soft, plaintive sigh escape the blond's lips; he never could stand it when he thought his partner was hurting.

Justin gazed sorrowfully out the window; he was trying so hard not to feel sorry for himself – he knew his mother and his friends had all suffered a great deal in the last couple of weeks after they had thought he was dead, Brian most of all; was he being selfish, then, to grieve for what _he_ had lost, too? He jumped slightly as he felt a pair of strong arms slide down his chest and Brian's head nuzzle his neck affectionately. "Stop that," he chided him softly, his breath fanning Justin's chin like a caress.

Justin turned his head just enough to gaze into the hazel orbs staring back at him intently. "Stop what?" he whispered back, not able to take his eyes away from the other man's piercing gaze. He really didn't have to ask what his partner meant, however; it was written clearly on his face by the frown and intense, disapproving look.

"Stop wallowing in pity and sorrow," Brian told him flatly without preamble. "What's done is done, Sunshine. We can't go back and take the fucking accident away. Life doesn't make promises and it's not always fair. We have to play the hand we're dealt."

Justin unexpectedly freed himself from Brian's loose embrace to stand up and confront him. "What a bunch of philosophical _bullshit_!" he retorted, shaking his head angrily.

"What do you _mean?_" Brian asked him, surprised by the vehement outburst. He watched as Justin walked toward the window and stood there with his back to him for a few seconds, as if he were collecting his thoughts. He finally turned around to face the brunet, his face a picture of frustration and vexation, the familiar, light blue eyes flashing a look of impatience.

"How _long_, Brian? How long do we give it? Tomorrow, next week, next month – hell, next _year? _TELL ME honestly that you're willing to _wait_ that long!"

Brian placed his hands on the back of the couch to brace himself; where did _this_ come from? "I thought we discussed this last night, Justin," he responded quietly. "I thought we had decided to see what Dr. Keller had to say on Monday." _What had changed?_

Justin closed his eyes briefly, his face shadowed in pain. "It's been _two weeks, _Brian. You want to know the extent of what I've remembered in those _two weeks?_ A little boy that looks like you that calls me _Poppa_. You and me – here in the loft and at….." He struggled to remember the name until it came to him. "At _Britin. _Being at Babylon…. and that horrible, horrible bombing there." He held out his hands, palms up. "There….That's _it_, Brian! The extent of my 23 years of life! No matter how hard I try, I can't remember where I grew up, where I went to school, who my friends are, what I like to eat, even my best friend that I'm supposed to have known for _years_! Hell, I can't even remember my own _MOTHER_! I go to bed each night and think – this is going to be the night. This is going to be the night that I wake up and somehow _remember_." Justin emitted another long, disgusted sigh and turned back to peer out over the windows. "I look down at the street below – the street I've no doubt walked on more times that I should be able to count by now. And it means_ nothing to me_ – absolutely, fucking _nothing_." He cradled his left hand in his right one. "I'm surprised I even remember how to_ paint_." He peered down at his hands. "Maybe I should've just smashed _both hands_ and been done with it or just stayed dead in Harrisburg."

Justin didn't hear Brian approaching him until he felt the brunet's arm roughly spin him around to face him; his skin paled and he actually shrunk back from his partner's face that was contorted with rage as Brian grabbed his upper arms tightly; two weeks of pent-up pain, misery and desolation had reached their culmination at last. "Don't you _EVER_ say that again, Justin!" he yelled, his dark eyes flashing with fury as his long fingers dug into the sensitive, pale flesh. "Are you out of your _FUCKING MIND?_ Don't you EVER talk that way _again_! Your art is _everything to you_! It's who you _are!_ And do you know what I've been through the past two weeks, thinking you were _dead?_ That I…I would never _see you again?_ Do you have any _fucking idea_ how it's felt – how _I_ felt that night thinking you were coming home for good so we could be finally be together, and then the next day having my heart ripped out of my fucking chest finding out you were _dead?_" Brian's voice cracked as he continued in a slightly lower voice, his words choked with emotion as he stared daggers at his partner; if Justin only knew what it took for him to even be standing there, exposing his emotions to him; there had been a time not so long ago that he would have _never_ allowed himself to even _think _these kinds of thoughts, let alone utter the words that he was now saying out loud. "Do you, Justin? Do you _really _know? God, don't you _EVER _say ANYTHING like that _ever again_ – do you _UNDERSTAND ME?"_ When Justin didn't answer him, he shook him urgently by the upper arms. "_Answer me, Justin!"_ he demanded crossly.

Time stood still as Brian continued to grasp his partner's arms in a vise-like grip; his breathing came out in angry, rapid gusts of air as Justin stood there, his face ashen and riddled with guilt over only thinking of himself and what pain HE had been through; he knew Brian must have been deeply affected over his apparent death, but until now he realized he hadn't fully understood the depth of his pain. How could he have been so fucking _selfish? _His eyes filled quickly with tears, the drops forming a glistening path down his cheeks as he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the anguish written on his partner's face. "I'm….._sorry_, Brian," he whispered, his voice cracking as he finally opened his eyes to stare into hazel ones mirroring his own pain. "I…wasn't _thinking,_" he answered helplessly. He brought his hands up to his face to cover his guilt-laden eyes, unable any more to look at his partner's face. He finally understood; the feelings that Brian had suppressed since they had been reunited in Harrisburg had finally been brought out into the open, like a scab that had not quite covered over the scar. "God," he choked back a cry. "I…..didn't realize," he replied, his soft voice barely audible. "I didn't realize how much we meant to each other. I thought I _did_…but now I realize I _didn't; _not really."

Brian felt the slender body trembling in his arms as he continued to hold onto to him roughly. The intensity and depth of his feelings for this man both elated and scared the _hell_ out of him. And to hear Justin declare his life was worth nothing, was worth throwing _away_, was too much to contemplate. However, as he stared at his partner's face now, remorseful and yet still so haunting in its beauty, his fury quickly slithered away as if it were some type of unwelcome guest. He took a deep breath, his heart still pounding chiefly on adrenaline, as his face slowly softened; now _he_ was the one who was remorseful. He wasn't sorry for making sure Justin knew how he felt about him, but the last thing he would ever want to do was scare his partner or make him afraid to admit his feelings to him.

He abruptly realized how tightly he was holding onto the blond's arms; even though they would no doubt result in angry, red bruises on his pale skin, Justin hadn't uttered so much as a whimper as he had inflicted them. He bit back a horrified thought that he had someone melded into an image of his father producing the same type of bruises on _him_ before he deliberately vanquished those thoughts; if anything, Justin had taught him that he could _never_ be the abusive, controlling and manipulative prick that had only held the title of _father_ as a nameless shell only. But that still did little to tamper the ugly thoughts from entering his mind before he quickly released his hold on his partner's arms.

"I know," Brian whispered softly now. "I know," he murmured soothingly. "Come here," he beseeched him; Justin willingly allowed himself to be pulled into his arms to wrap him in a protective cocoon of warmth. He stroked his partner's back slowly, reassuringly now as he rested his head on top of the soft, blond hair. "We _will_ get through this, Justin. Not sure how or when – but we _WILL_." He didn't hear an audible reply from the blond except for another sigh – one full of longing and sorrow mixed in with what Brian hoped was at least a little optimism.

The couple stood there for several minutes, Brian slowly rubbing Justin's back while his partner's arms wrapped themselves around his waist. How many times had they stood here, in this loft, in much the same manner? And why did it seem like whenever they did, it was to always say _goodbye_? Well, this time, damn it, it was going to be _different_; Justin wasn't going _anywhere_ without HIM. He pulled Justin back enough to gaze into the blue eyes that stared back at him, full of perhaps not quite love yet, but at least some modicum of admiration, trust and affection; for now that would have to do. He reached up to cup the familiar face in his hands before he leaned down to bestow a somewhat chaste kiss on his partner's lips; he was comforted to note that Justin did not pull away, but rather seemed to welcome the action as his mouth moved across his in their sweet, familiar dance.

With some reluctance, Brian pulled back after a few seconds and placed his hands, gently this time, on Justin's arms. Having come to a rather spontaneous decision, he asked his partner, "I'll tell you what, Sunshine. How would you like a motor tour version of _Justin Taylor – This is Your Life_ from my luxurious coach on wheels?"

Justin's eyes actually lit up as he asked hopefully, "You mean….you'd would take me to the places I'm familiar with?"

"Yeah," Brian verified, smiling slightly. "I'll drive you around to all your old haunts and point them out to you." He suddenly thought of an inspiration. "I can even drive us out to Britin," he suggested. "You haven't been there yet and it just might help you to see it. I know you told me you've had quite a few dreams that took place there."

Justin's heart leaped at the thought; he had recalled so many instances of him and Brian there that maybe, just maybe it might trigger something. At the very least, he was anxious to see the magnificent residence where Brian had proposed to him and where they had made love so many times afterward, seemingly in every crevice of the place. "I'd like that," he told his partner gratefully; at this point he would be willing to do _anything_ as long as it got him out of the loft where, except for the brief trip to Babylon, he had felt like a virtual prisoner since they had returned.

"Good," Brian answered; to him, this seemed like an excellent compromise between Justin wanting to see and do everything at once to Brian wanting, instead, to play it safe for his health's sake. "Well, I'll go grab a shower and get dressed so we can go," he told Justin as the two disengaged from their embrace.

As Brian turned to go, he stopped as he heard Justin calling his name. "What?" he asked the blond, puzzled; was there some other concern they hadn't addressed yet?

"Nothing," Justin told him to reassure him he wasn't going to queen out on him again. "I just wanted to say that …I don't think art was _everything_ to me. If it _had_ been, I wouldn't have been coming back here. I think YOU were."

Brian swallowed the lump that instantly appeared in his throat. It was amazing how perceptive his partner could be, especially considering his present condition. "So were you," Brian whispered to him wistfully. "You STILL are," he added softly; their eyes met across the room before he turned toward the shower, leaving Justin standing there, his mind a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts and emotions.

* * *

Brian emerged from the shower, a blood-red Egyptian towel slung low over his hips. He knew it was probably a pipe dream, but while he was in the shower he had actually retained the hope that Justin might somehow decide to join him. Of course, if he had, he would not have been able to keep from fucking his partner senseless to partially make up for several weeks of deprivation from his favorite activity and with the only man who ever currently participated with him in it; they had long ago made a commitment to be monogamous, and even though it was practically _killing_ him to be so close to his partner in bed and not be able to touch him the way he would like to, he was determined to _keep_ their commitment. The only think he could hope for was that when they _did_ make love again, it would be that much hotter and that much sweeter; it was the only hope that kept him from going fucking _insane_ with desire whenever he got within an inch of Justin. The ache inside him, however, just wouldn't go away – just the smell of him, the touch of him, and the small tastes of him his partner had allowed occasionally – it was almost harder than not touching him _at all_. He quickly dismissed that thought, however, because the alternative he had before of never seeing him again was much too hard to bear. For now, he would just have to fucking cope with it until the situation improved. And it HAD to improve – there was no only option as far as he was concerned. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

His impatience spurred him to quickly drop his towel on the bedroom floor and get dressed into a pair of worn, comfortable jeans and a sleeveless, black shirt; his typical attire for when he didn't have to work and wanted to relax. He also hoped that it would make Justin more at ease somehow. Thoughts of his partner made him search the blond out, who he discovered was standing by the windows again, looking out onto the street, perhaps hoping that some activity out there would somehow restart his memory. _How I wish it was that easy, Sunshine_, he lamented, taking just a sliver of time to feel sorry for himself before he quickly squelched it and walked down the bedroom step to reunite with his partner.

Justin turned at the sound of Brian's approach. "Ready to go, Justin?" the brunet asked him with a slight smile. Justin nodded and accepted Brian's outstretched hand readily, as Brian gave it a small squeeze and pulled him gently to him. As Brian placed their intertwined hands on his chest, he whispered, "Justin Taylor….._This is your life._" He took the luxury of reaching the long-fingered, pale hand up to his lips to give it a small kiss before he added, "Let's get started reliving it, okay?"

Justin smiled in agreement, relieved to finally be getting out of the loft again. He was also very excited as well as nervous to take a look at all of the places Brian would show him in hopes that something, somehow, would make a connection with him.

They had almost neared the door to slide it open when they both jumped slightly at the sound of the buzzer signaling a visitor downstairs. Justin quirked an eyebrow at Brian, who shrugged. "I wasn't expecting anyone," he replied in response to Justin's silent question. Brian hoped whoever it was wasn't some fucking reporter who had somehow found out about Justin's phoenix-like rise from the ashes. "Who is it?" he asked curtly with just a hint of suspicion; there was no way he was letting just anyone into the loft unannounced without finding out their intentions beforehand.

A breaking voice filled with emotion choked out, "It's Emmett. Is it _true?" _He asked simply; he knew if it was, he didn't have to explain any further as he held his breath for Brian's reply.

Brian cringed; deep down if he had to admit it he actually _liked_ Emmett in a strange way; the man could definitely get on his nerves, and he was usually much too emotional for Brian's taste, but he had to confess – the man cared about his friends and was fiercely loyal to them. And one of the friends he had always been deeply loyal to – and cared a great deal about – was _Justin_. Deciding that it was time to light one more candle on Justin's birthday cake of experiences, he simply said, "Come on up."

"Emmett," Justin murmured. He recalled the man's name from some prior references to him by both Brian and Michael; he remembered enough to know that this was one more friend of his that he had apparently known for several years. He felt a little pang of disappointment, however, at the realization that the name really didn't mean anything to him beyond what little he had heard from the others. He turned to Brian as he felt his partner lightly squeeze his upper arm for attention. He looked at him questioningly as he heard the elevator making its slow ascent up to their floor with its passenger.

"Just be warned, Justin. This man is a nelly queen. He's going to be a fucking _mess_ when he sees you," he cautioned him. "You might want to stand back," he quipped as Justin smiled in amusement at the apparent exaggeration.

"You just _think_ I'm kidding," Brian admonished him ominously. "You obviously, then, definitely _don't remember him_." Justin frowned; was the man _that_ over the top? He was about to find out, because there was suddenly a loud, rapid knocking on the heavy metal door.

Brian turned and gave his partner one more warning glance before he threw back the door to reveal a tall, brown-haired man standing there; Justin's eyes opened wider as he noted the bright raspberry-pink, spandex shirt the man was wearing atop a pair of cranberry-colored leather pants. A heavy, double-stranded golden chain hung from his neck to match the metal belt encircling his waist. Despite the man's flashy appearance, however, Justin was most fascinated by the man's reaction to him; as soon as Emmett had honed in on his presence, the man's expression had quickly changed from one of impatient anticipation to one of unadulterated rapture.

Emmett's blue eyes quickly filled with tears as he clapped his hand over his mouth in shock as well as happiness at this unbelievable moment; a moment he had never, ever in a million years thought would be possible again. "Oh, my God, Baby," he cooed, his voice choked with joy. "It's….it's…" For once he found himself speechless; he couldn't come up with the right words to say how it felt at that instant to know that his adorable, full-of-life friend that he had grown to love for his enthusiasm and zest for life was _here_, in the same room as him, alive and relatively well. His voice died out as he struggled for the appropriate words and his feet kept him glued in the doorway until Brian finally muttered, "Well, are you coming in or _not?_ He's not going to disappear into thin air, if _THAT'S_ what you're worried about."

That was all the incentive Emmett needed to break his spell of paralysis and abruptly rush into the loft to scoop a startled Justin up into his arms into a type of aerial bear hug; Emmett whooped as he twirled Justin around in a circle and jiggled him up and down slightly. "You're _really here!"_ he cried in jubilation, rejoicing in feeling the warm, firm body holding onto him tenuously as he continued to swing Justin around enthusiastically. "Oh, my God, Baby, you _really ARE!" _Now that Emmett had Justin captured in his grasp, he knew without a doubt that he was definitely not a figment of his hopeful imagination; the man was truly without a doubt very much _alive_.

"Emmett!" he heard a warning shout from Brian. "Put him _down!"_ Brian growled. "Are you trying to put him back in the _fucking hospital?"_ Emmett sheepishly lowered Justin gently to the ground but did not release him completely; it was as if he still had to touch him to make sure he was real. "Sweetie, I'm _so happy_," he sobbed out, the tears shining unbidden from his eyes. "When Michael told me...I just couldn't believe it," he continued to babble. "It's…it's a _miracle_, that's what it is," he decided resolutely as he smiled through his tears. "A miracle," he repeated softly as he shook his head, stunned.

Brian stared intently at his partner, making sure he wasn't coming unglued by his much-too-emotional, wear-his-heart-on-his-sleeve friend. He silently remembered to "thank" Michael the next time he saw him for springing this man on Justin so unexpectedly. To Brian's relief, however, Justin didn't seem intimidated or frightened by Emmett's overly demonstrative reaction; rather, he was smiling clearly in amusement at his friend, even though Brian suspected Justin still didn't really have any idea who – or _what _– this man WAS. Whether he remembered him or not, however, Justin was obviously taken with the man. Maybe somehow on a subconscious level Justin knew this man was a friend to him, even if he _didn't_ actually remember him intellectually, just as if he knew instinctively that he could trust Brian when he brought him back to Pittsburgh.

"I hate to break up this tender reunion," Brian interjected, as he placed his hands between the two men, not too differently than when he had detached a young, persistent blond twink from two suitors at Babylon right after they had first met. "But Justin and I were just about to go out on another trip down _Memory Lane_. I'll bring him over to the diner sometime next week and you can continue your little tete a tete then," he offered generously with just a hint of sarcasm as he reached over gently to untangle his partner from the other man's grasp.

Justin looked over at Emmett somewhat apologetically. "I'd really like to sit down and talk with you some more, Emmett," he told his friend sincerely, who smiled at him, so happy that he was back in town and simply _alive_. His friend would come back 100 percent whole and better than ever – Emmett was sure of that. "You can _count on it_, Baby," he purred happily. "You can _count _on it." He clapped his hands together softly. "I'm….just _so happy_," he cried emotionally. "It's….._so wonderful_. Like a magnificent dream," he declared sentimentally. He decided his friend's return to the living was more wonderful than even Barbara Streisand's comeback tour.

He slowly backed out of Brian's loft to leave, keeping his face turned toward his friend, his expression one of heartfelt gratitude and joy. He gave Justin a small wave just before his back unceremoniously hit Brian's heavy metal door with a loud thud; he had been so swept up in the vision of his long-feared dead friend's miraculous return that he hadn't even noticed when Brian had shut the door back. "Oomph!" he cried out as the wind was knocked from his lungs unexpectedly.

Justin laughed softly in delight; this man was like a breath of fresh air after all the heavy melodrama he and Brian had endured in the past two weeks. He was disappointed to realize that he didn't recall anything about this man, but right then he didn't care; even if he had to get to know him all over again, it would be worth it. This man was unique and followed his own drummer; Justin couldn't wait to become a member of his band of friends again.

"Take good care of my baby, Mr. Kinney," Emmett chided the brunet, who simply glared at him. "See you soon, Sweetie," Emmett chirped, as he finally pirouetted around and opened the door to exit with a little wave of his hand in the air.

As he walked out of their sight, Brian let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God _Hurricane Emmett _is gone," he growled. "That man needs to take Valium on a 24-hour basis," he declared. He turned to look at Justin, who was actually smiling broadly. "What is _so _amusing?" he asked his partner in wonder. This was the first time he could really recall any sign at all of the mesmerizing smile his partner was renowned for; he hadn't realized until then just how much he had missed that. He fervently hoped he would see a lot more of that in the future.

Justin smirked. "Emmett," he replied simply, still smiling. "He's…..._funny_. I LIKE him," he decided. "He's quite a character, isn't he?"

"No _shit_," Brian snarled; that was certainly an understatement. But in truth, though, he couldn't be mad at Honeycutt; the man had done something that few lately had been able to do – make his partner _laugh_, despite his ongoing worries about his future – about _their_ future; anyone who could lighten Justin's burden right now was all right in his book. "I'm glad he _entertained _you," he cracked, as Justin twisted his mouth at him. "Now why don't we get out of here before someone_ else_ in your fan club shows up?"

He reached over to grab his partner's light jacket that always seemed to be slung over a chair nearby; Brian noted with a snort that the man's clothes were _still_ being thrown around haphazardly even though Justin had no clue he was repeating his past behavior, at least not overtly, anyway. He liked to think it was his partner's brain crying to reintroduce itself; it somehow gave him a comforting feeling to look at it that way.

Justin quickly doffed the proffered jacket; he was anxious to get out and discover more about his life – his life and this man's standing next to him. Because no matter where they went here in Pittsburgh, something told him both of their lives were permanently intertwined, not only before but for years to come. As they walked out of the loft toward the elevators, Justin again reached to grasp Brian's hand in reassurance that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.


	37. Chapter 37:  Baby Steps

_Sunday Afternoon_

Justin knew he probably looked like an overeager lap dog as he stuck his head out the 'Vette's window and faced the bright sunlight to soak in the surprisingly warm spring air. Even if it had been cold as hell, he still thought he would have done the same thing; it just felt so good to be out of the loft and actually _going _somewhere, _anywhere_. He turned at the sound of Brian snickering. "What?"

"You realize how fucking ridiculous you look with your head out the window, don't you?" his partner observed sarcastically. He didn't really mind, though, especially after Justin's emotional outburst earlier today. He actually was relieved to see the blond's mood lightening somewhat after seeing him so upset in the loft. Just the look of maybe not quite contentment but at least ease on his partner's face was enough to convince him that suggesting a little motor tour of their most-frequented spots in the Pitts had been a good idea.

"I don't care," Justin replied with conviction as he poked his head once more out the window; the temperate air lightly ruffled his hair as it warmed his face as well as his soul. He _needed_ this; he _needed_ to feel like he was a part of his old world again, even if it still wasn't familiar. How was he ever to recall his previous life if he couldn't be exposed to it? If it had been up to him, he would have insisted on stopping and going into every place Brian was taking him; but his partner had been so patient and understanding through this whole ordeal, and he seemed to think that actually going into all these places would be detrimental to him right now. So as much as he fucking hated it, he felt he had to accede to Brian's wishes for now. He was placing all of his hopes on tomorrow's visit to Dr. Keller. He knew better than to think that one visit to his former neurologist would solve all of his problems, but he truly hoped that at least the doctor could give him a clearer understanding of what he was up against it. _Please let it be promising news – for BOTH of us._

Brian glanced over thoughtfully at his partner; the sunlight radiating off Justin's blond hair and the look of pleasure on his face at the moment made his heart swell. It was times like this when he had to do a double take just to make sure he still wasn't imagining these events. He thought back to what seemed like an eternity ago to when Justin "died" – _had it just been two WEEKS ago_? At times it seemed like two fucking _years _ago; their recent days and nights together had been full of baby steps in their relationship and attempts to reacquaint Justin with what he had lost. The pain and anguish he had felt back then, however, was still as fresh and raw as it had been on that day he thought his world had crashed forever. And no matter how much he reassured Justin, the thought of perhaps moving forward from the day they were reunited and having to practically start over in their relationship filled him with trepidation and uncertainty – uncertainty that they just might never get back what they had had.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Justin eagerly asking, "Where are we going first?"

"Well, we're closest to the Liberty Diner where you used to work so we'll stop there first. Debbie still works there, you know."

"Brian….." There was hesitation in the voice he knew so well. He glanced over at his partner's face, noticing a question unspoken on his lips. "What _is_ it, Justin?" he prodded patiently, although he had a good idea what the blond was going to ask him before he said it aloud.

"Couldn't we go _in_?" came the predicted question. Brian had to admit - at least he was as _persistent_ as usual. It had started the day he showed up right after they had fucked for the first (and what he thought was the _last) _time and was apparently continuing to this day, several years later. He sighed softly before slowly pulling the 'Vette over to the side of the road and killing the motor. Removing his sunglasses, he turned in his seat to face his partner.

"I thought we had already talked about this, Justin," he replied softly, trying to keep the exasperation from creeping into his tone of voice. "You know what's going to happen if you walk in there? Well, I'll tell you – practically everybody in the fucking place is going to recognize you instantly – that is, at least AFTER they get over the shock of seeing you alive – and they will want to know all about how you survived the accident. And all it will take is one person blabbing to the fucking media and you will be the leading story in tomorrow's newspapers plus on the morning news and have reporters following you for at least the next few weeks every place you go bombarding you with a barrage of questions – are you prepared to handle that?" he asked him pointedly. He pinched his nose as he felt the slight tinge of a tension headache starting to emerge. He wasn't going to back down from his opinion, however; Brian had seen how Justin had reacted after his bashing – if anyone came within so much as ten feet of him, or worse dared to _touch _him, the blond immediately withdrew into a shell as he shrunk back from them in fear. If he thought he was hounded after _that_ occurred, just wait until the fucking reporters find out about the "miracle man" from the "unsurvivable" Harrisburg train accident. His partner – hell, BOTH of them – wouldn't get a moment's peace, right when he felt it was important that Justin be able to concentrate on his recovery. He only hoped his partner understood the ramifications of what he was asking. It seemed like such a simple question, but it was one that had all sorts of possible problems associated with it. "Justin…..," he began again as he noticed his partner about to protest. "I know how badly you want to get back to a normal way of life, but Sunshine, really – the accident was only _two weeks ago_." _Two weeks_ _of torture for him, _but in the calendar of life, such a brief period of time. "Do you understand why I don't want to rush through all this, especially before you've had a chance to see Dr. Keller? I really respect him – he managed to help you recover fully last time from an extremely serious injury." One Brian hadn't been sure he would _ever_ recover from; he brushed that thought out of his head to continue. "You need to wait until you see him before you undertake any more _self-healing measures_."

"You mean like traveling here with Andrew to Babylon?" Justin pressed him. He noticed Brian wince at the sound of the other man's name, even though he tried to hide it; he supposed he would probably always get that same response to his friend's name, even though he and Brian were back together and Andrew was out of the picture. What else could he do to make Brian relax when he simply mentioned the other man's name? After all, when he stayed with Andrew, he had nowhere else to go and he didn't even _remember_ his partner, except in those vivid dreams he was constantly having. So it was _Brian_, in a way, who had precipitated his trip to Babylon in the first place. He only wished that he could have known then what he knew NOW so they hadn't had to waste any more time reuniting than they did.

Brian pursed his lips in a tight line before responding; even now the mention of that other man's name made him strangely insecure; perhaps it was because instead of him being the one that Justin gravitated to in one of his greatest times of need, he wound up leaning on that conniving _doctor_ instead. It was obvious from the first moment Brian had laid eyes on the man that he had more than a _professional_ interest in his partner. _Well, Pal, your time with him is OVER_, he thought possessively. Out loud he responded simply in an even tone of voice, "Yeah….something like that."

Justin nodded his head; he didn't quite agree with Brian's insistence on laying low for a while longer, but he supposed deep down he understood. Perhaps right now in his current state of mind Brian actually knew him better than he knew _himself_. He fucking _hated_ this game of subterfuge, though; he despised this sneaking around with his proverbial tail between his legs. Sighing in temporary defeat, however, he told his partner with just a hint of irritation, "Okay, Brian. I'll go along with you for now. But I won't keep slinking around town like I've done something wrong. Like I said before, enough people know by now that it can't be kept a secret for long. I mean, look at Emmett. He found out from Michael at the _diner_ – the SAME one you're taking me to NOW! How long do you think we can keep this a secret? I think it would be better just to get it out in the open, but I'm willing to wait and see what Dr. Keller thinks about it." A sudden, dreadful thought occurred to him. "Brian…..If everyone thought I died in that train accident, what about my records? Have I been _declared dead?_ Maybe I can't even get access to my records or my bank account – if I EVEN have one, that is. Maybe I sucked so much at making a living as an artist that I don't have any more money to my name than I did when I was in Harrisburg and worried about where I was going to go after my discharge."

Brian smirked. "Believe me, Sunshine, you couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, you were coming back here to the Pitts to live because you'd become so successful you could live _anywhere_ and paint. You were planning on finding a studio near the loft to work out of and travel to New York City when you needed to for gallery showings and promotional work. And as far as your bank account goes," he added, "you've managed to squirrel away a damn fair amount of cash. I don't think you've got anything to worry about as far as expenses go." He smiled fondly. "You always _were_ an independent little twat. You always hated it when I tried to take care of you. So as soon as the money started coming in, you socked away as much as you could so you couldn't be accused of being some twinkie boy toy of mine going after my money as well as my _ass," _he cracked_. "_Not that you _ever _were, really," he added softly. A lot of people through the years had whispered that behind their backs, and sometimes he knew to his unspoken regret that Justin had had a hard time not believing it, especially when Brian would grab some guy and pull him into the back room for a quick blow job or a fuck. But the truth was, no matter how much he had tried to push Justin away initially, from the first morning that the blond had impertinently stood up to him in the shower, he never would have been able to let him go.

"By the way, just so you know," he pointed out. "You're on my health insurance policy at Kinnetik, so your treatment at Alleghany General will be covered through that. So you don't have to worry about all your money being sucked down the drain because of medical expenses," he assured him, a soft smile on his face. One of the first things he had done when he opened Kinnetik was open up the employees' insurance coverage to their spouses as well as partners; Justin had been the first person afforded that designation on Kinnetik's medical coverage as an additional insured party under Brian's name.

Justin nodded, oddly touched by Brian's gesture. It was one more way that Brian showed him how much he cared for him. This man was a constant surprise to him, it seemed. "But what _about_ my bank account, Brian? If everyone thinks I'm dead, the funds must be frozen by now." He shook his head. "I can only _imagine_ how fucking difficult it's going to be to become _undead_."

Brian reached over and took Justin's left hand; fortunately, it had healed enough by now that he no longer had to wear the sling from the result of his brief bout of temper at Babylon last week; the hand was healing nicely now. "Actually," he divulged quietly, his eyes boring into his partner's light blue ones. "We have a joint account at Pittsburgh First Financial. I never told them about your death." He choked slightly on the last word; even now, even though he knew his partner was very much alive, he still tripped on that word. Just putting Justin's name and the word _death_ in the same sentence was much too painful to even contemplate. "I…..I couldn't make myself do it." He looked down at his lap and he continued to absentmindedly stroke light circles on top of his partner's hand with his thumb as he whispered, "I guess it was one more way that I could deny what had happened and maybe somehow change it." He looked up to meet his partner's gaze. "I'm glad I didn't now…..for a lot of reasons."

Justin bit his upper lip as he stared at the myriad of emotions sweeping across his partner's handsome face. He thought he could see relief and pain mixed in with a little embarrassment at his heartfelt confession. He got the distinct impression that laying his emotions bare, even to him, was difficult for this proud man. He felt honored that Brian could feel comfortable enough with him to peel some of the private layers away to reveal some of his susceptibilities. Justin squeezed Brian's hand in yet another sign of silent affirmation that he was really here, with him, and he wasn't going anywhere. Trying to make light of a suddenly electrically-charged situation, he said teasingly, "Well, as long as you didn't take advantage of my apparent demise to drain my bank account."

"You mean OUR bank account," Brian corrected, responding in the same teasing tone of voice. The emotional, raw moment was quickly covered up by their good-natured bantering as they smiled at each other before Brian released Justin's hand and started the 'Vette back up. "Well, I'd say it's time we start your tour now, Mr. Taylor," he advised his partner as he veered the car back into traffic slowly and headed toward the diner located a few blocks away.

* * *

A few minutes later, the sports car slowed down and parked across the street in front of a rather small diner situated on the corner of Liberty and Fremont; a cheery-looking rainbow-colored flag flowed gently in the warm breeze over the front door. It was early afternoon and if the flow of people walking by as well as entering and leaving the establishment was any indication, the place was fairly busy at the moment. Fortunately for the two men seated in Brian's vehicle, the pedestrian traffic seemed too occupied with their own lives presently to notice Justin's intense stare at the diner where he had worked so many times alongside Debbie, Michael's mother.

"I can't tell you how many fucking times we spent in that place," he heard Brian tell him softly; he thought he heard almost a tender tone in his inflection as he spoke. "Me and Mikey, Debbie, of course, Emmett and Ted, sometimes Blake or Cal, Drew – Em's football stud," he smiled at that thought. Who would have ever thought that a nelly queen such as Emmett Honeycutt would wind up in a relationship with one of the NFL's star quarterbacks? But despite his skepticism, they had seemed happy together during their somewhat brief relationship and Drew Boyd had actually derived enough encouragement and courage from Emmett to reveal his gay status to a surprised audience live at the local TV station, of all places. Even though the two of them eventually parted ways, they had managed to remain friends. He grimaced silently at that thought – was that what he and Justin were destined to be if he didn't recover his memories of their past together – just _friends_? He swallowed the bile that arose in his throat at the distasteful thought – as far as HE was concerned, he and Justin could NEVER, EVER be just friends; he loved the man way too much. "You were certainly there all the time, too," he recalled fondly. "Either working or not. You were pretty much there from the get-go."

"I was?" Justin asked him curiously. "Is that how we met – because I worked at the diner and you came in that night?" Brian had started to tell him how they had first met on the drive back from Harrisburg, but Justin had peppered him with so many questions about his past that they had moved onto another subject before Brian had had a chance to elaborate on the first time they met and the night that his son, Gus, was born. Somehow the idea of him impressing someone like Brian while he worked at a fairly nondescript diner didn't quite gel – Brian Kinney coming to eat one evening after a day at work, no doubt dressed up in some outrageously-expensive Armani business suit with a leather Gucci briefcase meeting some young, blond twinkie wearing a soiled apron and carrying a large plastic tub of dirty dishes? He wondered how in the world he ever got the attention of this casually elegant, confident man sitting next to him who was established and successful enough that he owned a multi-million dollar business.

"No, Sunshine, it didn't quite happen like that," Brian murmured, smiling at the memory of that fateful night. "I forgot that I never got to finish my story in the car. We certainly interacted a lot at this diner," he began, looking over at the smallish eatery where their lives had intertwined so many times and in so many ways – some good times, certainly, but also some extremely painful times. Brief flashes of days filled with tension and longing filtered through his mind as he thought of their tortuously-long separation after Justin had left the Rage party with….._him_. He didn't even want to acknowledge the barely-a-man who had almost stolen his partner out from under him with his actual name – he wasn't _worthy_ of it. Somehow if he didn't say the name, also, it almost made it seem like a bad dream instead of one of the most emotionally gut-wrenching, lonely times of his fucking life. "Brian?" he heard Justin whisper softly, concerned. He blinked to return to the present as he turned to face his partner's worried gaze, Justin's sapphire eyes wide with curiosity. "Is something wrong?"

Brian closed his eyes as he felt Justin's long-fingered hand brush softly against his cheek. Justin curved his palm around the smooth skin to cradle it for a few seconds as the brunet relished the unexpected caress. He mourned the loss shortly afterward of his partner's familiar touch when Justin released his light hold on him and patiently waited for Brian to answer his query.

Brian let out a soft huff of breath between his lips, trying to release the bad memories along with it. "No, I'm fine," he reassured his partner, smiling a little to try to convince himself of that as well. "Just….thinking of something I'd actually rather _forget _about it that happened in the past," he explained vaguely. He shook his head side to side as if to say, _it's not worth worrying about now_. Deliberately steering their conversation toward a more pleasant topic, he grinned. "Let me tell you about where and how we _really_ met."

* * *

Amid their lengthy conversation in the car and several stops later at PIFA, Woody's, St. James, the now-closed baths they used to frequent, and Jennifer's old condo where Justin had grown up, they finally arrived at Kinnetik. Brian had opted to reserve this and Britin for last because he knew they could actually get out of the car and go inside without worrying about Justin being discovered and receiving unwanted attention.

"What's this?" his partner asked, as Brian stopped the 'Vette directly in front of the old, brick bathhouse building that now housed his advertising headquarters and opened the driver's side door. "We're _getting out?_" Justin pressed, not able to prevent a touch of excitement from appearing in his voice. His body ached with the stiffness of having to sit inside Brian's car for the last couple of hours, no matter _how_ much he squirmed on the leather seat in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"Yeah, we're getting out," his partner confirmed, twisting his body around and swinging his long legs out of the driver's seat.

As Justin rose from the car, he took a better look at the building they had parking in front of; from the outside, it looked like any other brick building you would see on any urban street – fairly ordinary and rather squat. The only unusual features he noticed were the heavy-looking metal door and the front windows that faced out onto the street – they were oddly made of those glass-block windows you would typically see in either a home's basement or in a bathroom window placed there for privacy, except that these were in a curving design. He frowned slightly, puzzled at the need for this type of construction in an office building. While he waited for his partner to join him by the car, he took the opportunity to stretch his arms over his head to work some circulation into his muscles; sitting in Brian's low-slung car for so long had made him stiff as a board. It felt _so_ good just to get out for a change.

"Welcome to the world-wide headquarters of Kinnetik, Inc.," Brian announced in a melodramatic tone of voice with a twisted grin, sweeping his arm out and extending his hand in grandiose style like he was some type of handsome tour guide. He smirked a little at his comment; he only _wished_ this was just one location of Kinnetik. Perhaps one day, in the not so distant future, he _WOULD_ have other locations in the advertising meccas of the globe – from New York City, Justin's former conquered world, to Paris, London, Los Angeles, even more exotic places like Singapore, Tokyo, and Beijing. Of course, he could never imagine such a large-scale dream being fulfilled without the man who was accompanying him today standing by his side, because somewhere along the line his goals had changed from mastering the world of advertising alone to wanting to show Justin _all of it_. He turned to gaze at his partner, who appeared to be studying the outside of the building intently as if he were either trying to memorize it all over again or, more to Brian's wishful thinking, recognizing some of its features.

"Does any of it look familiar?" he asked; he tried to sound neutral so he didn't come across as pressuring Justin, but he couldn't quite keep the hopeful, anxious tone out of his voice. He and Justin had not only come here in the past to participate in several hot and heavy fuck sessions while it was still a bathhouse, but his partner also been the first person he had shown the new headquarters to as soon as Jennifer had helped him close on it; he remembered how excited he had been to show it off. Brian had been a little afraid that Justin would think he was crazy to try and turn a dilapidated, padlocked building into his new headquarters, but he should have realized that from an artist's viewpoint, Justin would find the curves and angular lines of the architecture fascinating. And he _had_ – from the moment he had escorted him inside, Justin's eyes had lit up, not from reminiscences of their past romps together in its former capacity, but from the potential the building had for Brian. That is, once he got past the unbelievable irony of Brian turning one of their former haunts into his worldwide headquarters. The two of them had shared a good laugh over that; Justin had even pointed out it was the first place where they had fucked in public. As he waited for Justin's response, he reflected upon how long ago and far removed from the present that seemed at the moment.

Justin released a breath; he would have liked to tell Brian that it invoked all kinds of memories, but he knew if he did, it would be a lie. Brian had told him he never lied to him; he felt like he owed him the same respect. "No," he answered then truthfully. "I'm afraid it doesn't. It's an interesting building, though – it's got good bones."

Brian frowned as he bit back his disappointment. "Good _bones_?"

Justin smiled a little; at least he felt comfortable talking about the esthetic beauty of the building. "I just mean it has character. I like the contrast of the curving lines with the square, boxy ones. We're going in, aren't we? I'd love to see the inside."

Brian nodded. "You bet your ass, Sunshine," he cracked, trying to keep the mood light despite his sadness that Justin didn't recognize the building that housed the business that he had named. Bringing Justin to Kinnetik was one of the stops he had hoped would help jar his partner's memory the most; finding that it didn't made him feel melancholy all of a sudden. Well, feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help matters. He reached over to take Justin's hand as he said, "Come on – let's go in." Justin nodded; as Brian's hand firmly but gently grasped his own, Justin felt an inexplicable nervousness as Brian used his free hand to jam the key into the lock and swing the heavy entrance door open.

The interior of the nondescript building was surprisingly bright; Brian had noticed the rather low-light atmosphere that had served its previous use as a bath house well and had wisely chosen to have several skylights installed during the remodeling. That move had created a huge difference in the interior's natural lighting and had brightened the space considerably. "This way," he told Justin, who was standing near the entrance apparently trying to soak in the features of the various changes to the building. Justin turned to look at him a little sheepishly as he realized he had been standing virtually immobilized taking everything in; now that he was finally seeing his partner's business headquarters where he had apparently become so successful, he wanted to see all of it. He hurried a little to catch up with the brunet, whose long legs were striding down a short hallway to come to a stop at an impressive-looking glass and cherry wood door. Turning the handle to open it, he stood to the side to allow Justin to enter his office first.

"Wow," Justin exclaimed, as he studied the expansive room. He realized now how the curved windows factored into the remodeling; they composed a very unique and impressive wall along one side of the room, allowing light to pour in while at the same time allowing total privacy for its occupant. Somehow he knew without a doubt what this room was. "This is your office." He phrased it as a statement rather than a question. The room, with its vibrant, clean and contemporary feel, seemed to suit Brian to a T – confident, bold, elegant, and ahead of its time.

Brian twisted his mouth in some surprise at the comment. "I thought you didn't recognize this place," he pointed out.

"I don't," his partner answered flatly. "I just think this room…_feels_ like you. It matches your attitude."

Brian raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And what _attitude_ would that be?" he wondered curiously.

Justin's face flushed a little. "Well, it's got elegant lines while still classic. It doesn't overwhelm you trying to make a statement – it's understated but at the same time confident." He rolled his eyes. "I know – that sounds so lame, doesn't it?" he groaned, covering his eyes briefly with his hands in embarrassment. He sounded like he was critiquing some house he wanted to buy or something, instead of commenting on his partner's office. Brian would have expected a more intelligent answer than _that_. He was surprised though when he uncovered his eyes and found Brian looking at him as if he were pleased instead.

"You're amazing," he told Justin, who found himself flushing again, but this time as a result of the unexpected compliment. "No one else would have even realized what I was aiming for when I designed this room, but _YOU_ did – even though you don't remember it." Brian decided it was yet another way that his partner knew him better than anyone else did – or ever would. That was also why it was worth it to keep working at getting their relationship back to the way it was – he missed their old connections _so fucking much_. "I'm glad you like it," he added softly. He decided he would wait until later to tell Justin that he had actually helped him pick out the colors and furniture that he had decided to use, too.

Brian noticed that Justin was no longer looking at him, but at a painting on the far wall. He watched as the blond slowly moved closer to it, as if he were a moth drawn to a candle. He watched as the blond's eyes studied the realistic portrait. "This…is Gus, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he studied the painting of a young boy who looked so uncannily like his father playing on the floor with a model train set. The almost angelic, smiling face that Justin had captured was aglow with fascination and wonder as he raised a caboose in the air to show it to some unseen visitor.

He felt the brunet's hands on his shoulders and his warm breath wafting over his face as Brian placed his head on top of the feathery blond hair to stare at the portrait that had instantly become his all-time favorite painting. "Yes," he said softly, his voice creating a vibration against Justin's head as he spoke. Justin could feel the emotion in his tone as he added, "I think it's the best painting you've ever done. And believe me, Sunshine, you've done some pretty incredible work over the last few years. Everything from impressionist work to still lifes to portraits. I don't know," he whispered nostalgically. "Maybe….maybe it's the subject matter." He smirked. "Sonny Boy's a hard act to follow…..he always _did_ know how to get his way, just like a certain blond I know," he added as he impulsively twisted his head to place a small kiss on Justin's cheek before nuzzling his face against the soft skin. He was oddly elated to hear a slight sigh escape from his partner's lips – he chose to think it was from pleasure or contentment rather than sorrow or longing. At any rate, he was just glad Justin didn't try to rebuff his action. "You gave me that as a congratulatory gift at the grand opening of Kinnetik, and it was the first thing I put on the wall. It certainly is a nice step up from the previous graffiti artwork of the bath house," he quipped, getting a small rumble of laughter from Justin at the comment.

He somewhat reluctantly removed his head from Justin's but maintained the luxury of keeping his hands on the blond's slender shoulders for a few moments longer, relishing the familiar feel of the soft, warm flesh he knew so well. He closed his eyes in an attempt to heighten and embrace the sensation, yet one more affirmation that his partner was back with him. He heard Justin say softly, almost so low he didn't catch it, "I'd like to see him, Brian."

Brian's breathing hitched as the unexpected _aha_ moment hit him. In all the excitement of finding out Justin was alive, he hadn't even contacted Mel and Lindsey yet to tell them what had happened. He had promised them both that he would return within a couple of weeks to carry out his promise to tell Gus that his _Poppa _would never be coming to see him again. Thankfully now he wouldn't have to tell Gus that the man he loved so deeply and thought of as his second father wasn't dead but _alive _– maybe not quite alive and fully well, but still far removed from the condition he had dreaded revealing to his son. Was it just possible that Gus could succeed at helping Justin recover when everyone – and everything – so far had failed?

On the other hand, how would Gus handle seeing his "second father" in the condition he was in? Would he realize that Justin had changed? And how would Justin handle seeing a little boy who idolized him and loved him, knowing that he didn't recognize him? Would it be awkward and actually make things _worse?_ It was almost impossible to tell – everything that had happened since Justin had returned had to be carried out without a script because when it came to his situation, there simply _wasn't one_.

"I'd like Gus to see you, too," he told him. Justin had no idea just _how much_ he was looking forward to that sweet reunion. "He's wanted to see you so ever since I went to visit him in Toronto last week. He kept asking me where his _Poppa _was." He felt the words catch in his throat as he recalled their time together then and how he had to keep skirting around the issue of why Justin wasn't with him like he normally would have been. He knew Gus would dearly love to see his "other father," and he thought it might do his partner good. But he wanted to be honest with Justin, however. "It's just that…..," he noticed Justin turn his head to gaze back at him with a little concern, the unspoken question of _but what_ written clearly on his face. "I'm just not sure if it's the best move at the moment." He heard the blond groan as if to say _not again _as he turned Justin in his arms to face him for an explanation. "What I mean is – Gus isn't going to understand why you don't remember him like everyone else does. He's just a little boy, Justin. To him, he will just know that the _Poppa_ he remembers and loves isn't treating him the same way he always does. He _will_ notice there's a difference in you. I just don't want either one of you getting upset when things don't go the way you – or he – hopes they do." He knew he sounded almost cruelly blunt, but he had promised Justin – and himself – to tell the truth at all times and he wasn't backing down from that now, no matter _how _painful it might be. Justin's and Gus' reunion might do Justin a world of good, but he had to think about his son here, also.

Justin cursed inwardly as he felt the tears spring into his eyes; damn it – he was tired of being treated like some awkward little child himself and being handled with kid gloves. He understood intellectually what Brian was saying; the last thing he wanted to do was upset or confuse Brian's little boy. But from the first moment he had dreamed of the little brown-haired tot with the sparkling dark-green eyes and the expressive face, he had felt some sort of _bond _with him. He hadn't quite understood it – maybe he _still_ didn't quite understand it – but it was still _there_. It was what had caused him to make the boy a focal point of the painting he had done in Harrisburg – the one he had urged Brian to bring home with them. The same painting that Brian had made careful pains to hang in a prominent spot on one of his loft's walls soon after they had returned to Pittsburgh. And now he wanted him to _wait_? His rational side warred with his emotional one as he fought to understand – and accept – Brian's decision. When it came down to it, though, Gus was still _Brian's_ son, not his. He had to believe, then, that for now Brian knew best and as hard as he found it, he had to go along with his decision and trust that he was right.

"Justin…." Brian whispered, his voice breaking a little; God, he hated it when his partner was upset – Justin always did wear his heart on his sleeve, almost like some fragile bird that was afraid someone would break his wing any second and he could no longer fly again. And the look on his partner's face was one he always dreaded seeing – it was one of disappointment but also resigned sorrow. He was getting so tired of having to disappoint him – lately it seemed like everything they did just led to the same dark road. When were they going to start going in the right direction for a change rather than backtracking?

"No…don't say it, Brian. I don't like it, I don't necessarily _agree with _it, but I _understand_ it." He grated out the word distastefully as he pried himself out of his partner's arms and turned away from the compelling portrait of Brian's son. _BRIAN'S_ son. When would he be _HIS _son again? Would he EVER be? _Okay, Justin – quit acting like a spoiled brat who isn't getting what he wants and think about the OTHERS for a change._ He took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. "I think I've seen enough. Can we please go?" he asked almost painfully. What he had hoped might happen when they came in here as usual wasn't going to. It was time to move on and hope things would change somewhere else. But as he was exposed to more and more people and places that should be familiar to him and he came away with the same tired, empty, unfamiliar feeling, his hope that he would ever recover his past experiences was fading like the sun presently casting long shadows through the building's windows. He shook his head sadly in silence as he turned and walked out of Brian's office.

Brian watched his partner walk past him, the dejection written clearly on his beautiful but sad face. He figured Justin wouldn't be too happy with his decision about not going to visit Gus yet. Maybe he WAS being too careful here, for both Justin's AND his son's sake. After all, the only flicker of recognition today had been when Justin had looked at his son's portrait; shouldn't he be trying to encourage that feeling, then, rather than _squelching _it? He only wished he knew what he was doing here; he wasn't a damned medical professional, though. He resolved to discuss it with Dr. Keller tomorrow during their visit with him; he knew he was counting on the doctor, perhaps a little TOO much, to answer all of their burning questions; he only hoped his confidence in Dr. Keller wouldn't be misplaced tomorrow.

They had visited numerous spots today that Brian had held out hope would rekindle a spark of recognition in his partner's face, but except for the portrait of Gus, they had all failed to do what he had desperately hoped they would do – restore just a little of Justin's memories as well as a little hope, too. As he hurried to catch up with his partner outside, he reflected on the one additional stop in store for them today, one more glimmer of optimism – his trump card, _Britin._


	38. Chapter 38:  Britin

The smooth purr of the sports car's motor was the only sound Brian heard as he drove his 'Vette over the state line toward the West Virginia countryside; even though Britin was less than 30 minutes away, he still found the difference in scenery amazing. Right after he had bought the house and proposed to his partner, he recalled a walk he and Justin had taken around the grounds as he tried to show off all its amazing features – the 8-stall horse stables, the kidney-shaped, heated swimming pool, and the two side-by-side tennis courts, to name a few. But out of everything, what had seemed to fascinate Justin the most were the _cows_ that grazed on the adjoining farmland next door – there must have been a hundred of them. He recalled Justin being tremendously amused by his look of disbelief when he had helpfully informed him they were going to wind up living next to a dairy farm, because the black and white cows were milking cows, not beef cattle. Where the fuck Justin ever learned such a plethora of totally useless trivia about cows and all kinds of other inane topics was beyond him; Justin was always throwing out statistics about something weird to his consternation. He recalled telling his partner at the time that this also meant they were going to wind up living in a place where there were apparently more _cows_ as residents than _people_, a fact that Justin thought was hilarious because he had laughed loudly at that and smiled one of his trademark, radiant smiles. Brian always loved his laughter – it was almost musical and so full of delight. How he wished he could see one of those smiles and hear that wonderful sound right now. All he heard now, however, was _silence_. Too much damn silence.

Ever since they had left Kinnetik 20 minutes ago there hadn't been _any_ sound from his passenger, other than his soft breathing; Justin had spent the entire time looking out the window at the bucolic scenery of the West Virginia landscape. Brian used to think he was an excellent reader of Justin's mood and his thoughts, but lately he didn't seem to have a _clue_ what he was thinking. He finally couldn't stand it any longer. "You've been awfully quiet since we left Kinnetik," he said softly, breaking the silence as he glanced over at the blond. "You wanna tell me what's on your mind?"

He was afraid for a few seconds that Justin wouldn't answer him; his partner hadn't moved at all since Brian had spoken to him and he was actually thinking he hadn't even heard his question. But after a short time, he heard him whisper against the window, "Where do I _start_?"

"Wherever you _want_," Brian told him in a heartfelt manner. He certainly couldn't say he'd ever had any experience with Justin's kind of condition, at least if you didn't count the times when he had been so spaced out on E or some other drug that he had forgotten the previous night's events. He couldn't imagine, though, being in Justin's shoes right now – not remembering your entire fucking past instead of only one night. "Just tell me what you're thinking," he prompted him when Justin didn't say anything further. _I'm prepared to wait as long as it takes for you to talk to me, Sunshine._

Justin finally turned his head from the window to peer over at his partner's intense gaze before he emitted a loud sigh. Internally he felt disgusted with himself – disgusted over everything Brian had been trying so hard to do for him and disgusted with his lack of appreciation for what his partner had been through since the accident. He desperately wanted to keep the pity-party feeling out of his voice as he answered, "It's just so hard, Brian."

Brian couldn't help smiling just a little sentimentally at the comment. "There was a time not so long ago that I loved it when you said that to me." He sobered quickly, though, as he noticed his partner's serious look on his face. "But obviously the circumstances are different now." He bit his lip thoughtfully; his voice lowered just a shade as he asked, "What's so hard, Justin? Tell me." _Don't hold everything in – I won't LET you._

Justin furrowed his brow as he struggled with the thoughts he had churning up inside at a dizzying pace. "It's hard to put into words. It's like…..I see all these people who obviously know me and you take me to all these places I'm supposed to have been to. Everyone is so sugary sweet - almost TOO much so - and seems so glad to see me – and they seem to know me so well; what I like, where I like to go, what I like to do, even what I like to _eat_. And all the time…it's, it's like I'm a spectator watching a fucking _movie_ or something. A movie of _someone else's life_, NOT mine. My stomach is tied up in knots all the time, my head feels like it's spinning with all this information that _everyone else_ is giving me, but it's not what I KNOW. I feel like I'm expected to be a fucking encyclopedia or something, and at the end of the year I'm going to be given a pop quiz to see how much information I've retained!" He pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes as if he was trying to shove the terrible doubts aside, but it was no use. The images of people and places he had seen in the past few days were still tumbling around inside his head at a furious pace. It was almost too much to absorb at once, even though that felt counter to his most desperate goal right now – to relearn everything about himself so he could get on with his life. But could he really move on with such a big gap in his _past? _Would he even be the same person he was? Would he _want _to be?

Brian glanced over at his partner's face, a picture of torment and pain. He loved Justin dearly and hated it when he was unhappy; and it tore him apart to see him going through this. But just a small part of him wished that Justin could, if only for a while, let it go. Fuck knows he was as anxious as Justin was for him to get his memory back; their relationship had been built on so many shared experiences that it wasn't impossible, although admittedly it _would_ be difficult, for them to rebuild it the way it was. Maybe, just maybe though, they _could_ repair it and make it _better_ somehow. Brian was trying hard not to let his own doubts about a positive outcome reveal themselves to his partner; the last thing Justin needed right now was for someone to feed on his festering worries and concerns. Brian _was_ sure of one thing, however; no matter what happened, he was in it for the long haul. He loved this man too much and they had come through too many hardships and difficulties for him to ever be apart from him again.

Brian huffed out a quiet breath, splitting his attention between the road and his partner as they drew nearer to Britin. "I won't pretend to know what you're going through, Justin," he began. "I _can't_. I've never been through what you've been through; what you're _still_ going through; not directly, anyhow. But that doesn't mean it hasn't affected me, because it HAS. It's affected me because it's happening to YOU. I won't say something fucking stupid and trite like _I feel your pain_," he parroted in falsetto mockingly, "but that doesn't mean I can just stand by while you're hurting and not be affected, because I AM. All I'm asking is that you don't shut me out. If I don't what you're thinking and how you're feeling, I'm going to have to guess. And I don't want to do that. We can't _afford_ to do that – too much is on the line here. I'm not saying either one of us will necessary have all the answers, but at least there won't be any miscommunication as far as what we're feeling or thinking at any given moment. Fair enough?" he asked softly. He knew he was monopolizing the conversation all of a sudden, but the words just seemed to tumble out of their own accord. _God, Justin. See how you've changed me? Of course not; you don't know that because you can't remember how I USED to be before you came along and changed me FOREVER._

Justin bit his upper lip pensively. His head still swam with all kinds of disorganized thoughts and he figured it might be that way for a long time, unfortunately; but he couldn't ignore the heartfelt words of this man who had no doubt been with him through good and bad times over the last few years. From all the people he had been "re-introduced" to in the past few days, one thought seemed to stand out above all others: no one doubted Brian's commitment to him. Didn't he owe him the same trust?

He met Brian's gaze, the hazel eyes practically boring into him as he waited for a response. Justin finally nodded and answered simply, "Fair enough." Brian seemed satisfied for the moment with that response, because he, too, nodded before he swept his eyes back onto the road. They sat in fairly companionable silence for a few moments before Justin noticed the brunet turning into a long, paved, curved driveway. "This is it," Brian announced, "Britin." Justin noticed a sort of faraway look in his eyes as he followed Brian's gaze to an impressive, stately brick house – a _mansion_ really – that sat imposingly at the top of a rise. As they slowed down in front of it, Justin was startled to feel something – was it a jolt, a flicker of recognition somehow?

_

* * *

_

Wait until you see the pool, and the tennis courts, and the stables…..

_Who owns this?_

_WE DO._

* * *

"What?" He suddenly heard Brian asking; he hadn't really even noticed his partner had stopped the car and turned the motor off. Now he was looking at him intently; it was time to put that _don't shut me out _promise into action. "It's just…..I thought maybe I remembered something," he informed him.

Brian tried to keep the tremor out of his voice as he asked, "What? What do you think you remembered?" _Remembered – how he loved to hear that word lately._

Justin closed his eyes, trying to stay as focused as possible on just what had flashed through his mind. "A conversation we had had in front of this house – at least it _looked_ like the same house. I can see snow – it must have been winter? We were talking about the house, and you were saying something about the amenities – something about a pool, tennis court and stables. And I asked you who owned the house and you said…."

"WE DO," Brian promptly supplied; the memory of that day when he had first shown Britin to Justin and had finally convinced his partner that he loved him and wanted to marry him was ingrained in his memory forever; even though they ultimately didn't carry out their intended plans, he would always remember that day as one of the most important of his life. It was the day he finally convinced Justin just how much he meant to him; it was the day he was finally able to express in words what he had been feeling for so long in his heart.

Justin smiled; it was just a half-smile, really, not the million-watt smile he was so renowned for, but to Brian it was still almost as wonderful. It was a smile that resulted from Justin realizing he had, indeed, _remembered something_. Brian desperately hoped there would be many more of those moments in the near future.

"Yes," Justin answered. "That's the way I…_remember it_. And it sounds SO GOOD to be able to say that."

"Not as good as it feels to_ HEAR IT_, Sunshine," Brian whispered sincerely, his voice choked unexpectedly with emotion. He couldn't believe how something so relatively minor was affecting him; maybe, in a way, it _wasn't_ minor at all. If Justin was remembering something again – _anything _– it was fucking HUGE. He reached over instinctively to brush his knuckles gently across Justin's cheek; he couldn't help curling his hand, then, around the slender, pale neck and slowly pulling Justin's body closer. Just before he allowed his lips to touch his partner's in a kiss, he hesitated, just like that night after the Prom when for some reason he had held back almost shyly, asking his "date" for permission to kiss him. Fortunately, just like that other night, Justin's clear-blue eyes and his relaxed face silently bid him permission and he gladly pressed his lips against the ones he knew – and reveled in – so much. He would have loved to stand there interminably in their kiss, but his hope that Justin might remember still more about Britin triumphed over his body's physical wishes and he reluctantly broke it off. "Let's go in," Brian urged, as he tenderly grasped his partner's lower arm and escorted him over to the door.

As they entered through the dominating wooden opening, Brian could easily smell the slightly musty odor from disuse, dust and neglect. He really didn't know why he had kept Britin after Justin had left; except for occasional, almost nostalgic weekend outings to reminisce about their times together, he really hadn't spent much time here. So why had it been so important to keep it? Was it because he harbored some – can he say it, even silently? – _romantic_ notion that one day he and Justin would LIVE here? Was THAT the reason why he just couldn't let it go? He would have never thought of himself as the type of person who would be happy living in the country – West Virginia, of all places. But as he walked over to the wall of windows in the great room that faced out over the backyard, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him at the sight of nothing but fields, trees, and the horses currently stabled there. Being the astute businessman that he was, he had taken advantage of the unoccupied stables to board some of the neighbors' horses who wanted to maintain their blue-blood image but didn't have the physical facilities to back it up. By agreeing to board some of their horses for a handsome fee, he could afford the groundskeeper who also took care of the horses' daily feeding and grooming requirements. He had to admit as he looked out onto some of the equine residents currently grazing nearby that they made for a captivating picture – one that Justin would no doubt relish sketching and drawing.

As if he were reading his mind, Justin walked over to stand beside him. "Are those _yours?" _he asked with almost awe in his voice. He found himself regretting that fact that he hadn't thought to bring a sketchpad with him - he would have LOVED to have drawn some of the scenery outside, especially with the majestic-looking horses currently grazing contently out in the field.

Brian smiled at the excitement in his partner's voice. "I wish they _were_," he found himself saying. "But they're actually being boarded here for some of the neighbors. It pays for me to keep a caretaker on the grounds to maintain the landscaping. Can you imagine having to _mow_ all this ground?" he growled good-naturedly. He held out his hands in front of him. "Not to mention the damage to my manicure."

Justin smirked. Somehow, even without his memory intact, that seemed so _Brian-like_. Truth be told, even with his extremely limited recollection, no, he couldn't imagine Brian cutting grass, either. "I think I see your point," he replied out loud.

Brian reached over to take his hand. "Come on," he encouraged him. "Let me take you on a tour, Mr. Taylor." He pulled Justin gently behind him as they walked into the kitchen. As he pointed over to the hard steel counter, he wrapped his arm around the blond's waist, intoning, "This is where I _filleted_ you one morning, just like a juicy sirloin." Justin blushed at the comment; he knew instantly Brian wasn't discussing his grilling technique. He escorted Justin over to the stainless steel refrigerator next, telling him, "And this is where I gulped down some tasty _milk_," he leered. "I was fucking _dying of thirst _that morning – we had had an extreme _vigorous _workout the night before," he reported huskily.

"Brian," Justin murmured, his face flushing with heat over the tender, intense, and loving looks his partner was giving him and his tone of voice; God, that oh-so-_incredibly sexy _tone of voice.

Brian shrugged. "Not saying anything that isn't true, Sunshine," he responded nonchalantly as if he were discussing a home and garden instruction show. "The tour's not over yet," he drawled, leading Justin upstairs to present other venues of fucking, from the unbelievably huge glass walk-in shower to the master bedroom's shagged carpeting (with emphasis on the _shagged _part, of course) as Brian winked wickedly at him. Finally, he led Justin back downstairs and over to the great room to stand in front of the wood-burning fireplace. Brian was beginning to enjoy this house tour immensely; the memories of he and Justin fucking and making love all over the house were coming back to him as a wonderful reprise. It also gave him hope that perhaps one day soon they would be able to rechristen it in the same manner. Maybe they could follow through with what Justin had suggested not so long ago – riding him in the stables, diving into him in the pool, and ramming him on the tennis courts. Maybe they could even add plowing some seed outside in the flower garden? That was one delicious idea that he and Justin had never experienced before. He smiled at the decadent thought as he turned Justin in his arms and looked at him affectionately; he wrapped his arms around the slim back as Justin slowly turned his eyes to gaze up at him, the pools of blue darkened somewhat with what he hoped was desire – for _him_. He still didn't see the same, familiar look of love and almost adoration he normally saw, but he hoped soon he would. At least the eyes that _were_ looking back at him were a little more animated than normal and they seemed a little more at peace at the moment.

"Now _this _was definitely my favorite part of our original tour," Brian uttered the words softly; his hands made slow circles side to side on Justin's lower back as he spoke, causing a delicious heat to radiate throughout the blond's body. He continued to marvel at his body's almost instinctive reaction to his partner, even when his mind failed to cooperate fully with his recollection of him. Their two bodies seem to be in harmonious sync with each other, and despite their differences in height and build, they seemed to fit each other's angles and contours perfectly.

"_This_…is where we…_made love_ after I proposed to you, and you said _yes_," he whispered; even now after all this time, his voice tripped a little over such emotional expressions of his feelings for this man; they poured out, though, almost as if he were still stunned to this day that Justin had agreed to marry him – _Brian Kinney_. Justin might not remember everything that had happened that night, but HE certainly did. Every word, every detail, every nuance of Justin's expression – from the initial one of stunned surprise, to incredulity, then skepticism, and finally a dawning realization of happiness and joy. He remembered how fucking terrified he had been that day that Justin would turn him down, and what an incredibly euphoric feeling he had felt when Justin had said _yes_.

Justin licked his lips, a little intimidated by the depth of Brian's feelings for him; he was almost afraid that he would wind up disappointing this man and he didn't think he could live with himself if he did that, not after the support and love he had so openly shown him since his return. Somehow, some way, he HAD to find his way back to him. He gazed intently into his partner's eyes as he whispered sincerely, "You're really something _special_, Brian Kinney." He reached up to tenderly brush some errant hair from his partner's forehead.

"I am….I really am," Brian boasted lightly. He instantly noticed Justin's frown; they had been having such a strong moment of bonding just then, almost as if they were picking up where they had left off before the terrible accident; had Justin taken offense somehow to his kidding? "What?" he asked somewhat anxiously. "I was just teasing you, Sunshine," he assured him.

Justin shook his head slightly. "No, Brian….." he murmured meaningfully. "You're not only _special_. You're….._fucking unbelievable_, aren't you?" he asked hopefully.

Now it was Brian's turn to frown. "Uh…..yeah, I guess, if you say so, Sunshine." _Where was Justin going with this?_ Suddenly a light bulb went on over his head as he recalled a previous conversation and he smiled broadly with elation. "Yes! I AM! I'm FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE!" He pulled Justin to him firmly and pulled him tightly into his arms, repeating again, "I'm fucking unbelievable!" He could hear Justin laughing now; God, how good it was to hear him laugh for a change. However small the victory was at the moment, it was still a _SWEET_ victory for the Kinney-Taylor team. And that's what they were and would _always be – _a TEAM. He swung Justin around in joy.

He rather sheepishly placed Justin back down on his feet after a few seconds to gaze into his eyes. "You….you _remembered that?"_ He had to make sure. His heart leapt when he saw Justin nod in affirmation.

"Yes…..I DID," he told him firmly. He quirked an eyebrow in caution, however. "That's about ALL I remember at the moment. But I DID remember it, Brian…..I _remembered it_." He emphasized that wonderful, wonderful word. It was such a little thing, he knew, but to Justin it meant the world to him at the moment. Because it wasn't a story someone was telling him – it was a _memory _– one of HIS memories. His and Brian's.

Brian grinned, echoing his happiness at the ramification of that statement. It was one of the few hopeful signs they had had today out of all the places he had took Justin to, and he was going to hold onto it fervently. "Yeah, Sunshine…You _did_. And it's just going to be the start – you'll see." _God, please let that be true._

Justin nodded. "I'm going to hold onto that, Brian," he told his partner. Both men seemed to reach for each other's hand at the same time as the brunet brought the slender, pale one to cradle it against his chest. Justin could hear the other man's heart beating furiously; the strong, regular rhythm was oddly reassuring as Brian whispered, "I've _got_ you, partner. And I won't let you fall."


	39. Chapter 39: Preparing for the Doctor

_Sunday Evening – Harrisburg – Calhoun Street Apartments_

Andrew sat on the couch and glanced at the piece of paper in his hand where he had jotted down the information provided by his answering service a short while ago. It was the name and phone number of a Dr. Keller, a neurologist who was based at Alleghany General Hospital in Pittsburgh. Even though he knew it might be a coincidence, something told him the doctor had something to do with his former roommate – the man he couldn't stop thinking about – _Justin_.

He stared at the paper in his hand and sighed. The damn apartment seemed so quiet since Justin had left; he had gotten used to his friend trying out his culinary experiments on him every day, despite his protestations over the blond's insistence of fixing him a meal all the time; he supposed what he missed most of all about those times, though, was the opportunity to talk to him over dinner and at lunchtime when he would hurry home for a short while to eat, even though it would have been easier to use the hospital's cafeteria; he had found an odd sort of solace in just coming home to find him there, with the paints and sketchpad he had bought for him to work on. Even though Justin didn't have a clue at the time about his true identity, he still somehow maintained his incredible artistic talent and was able to transfer it onto the canvas and paper. And his works were unbelievable and unique – so unique that his partner had somehow managed to figure out that Justin had been the artist that had created the painting for the charity art event at the hospital. Andrew grimaced – in a strange way, thanks to his suggestion that Justin donate his painting on behalf of the benefit, HE had actually been the cause of Justin being reunited with Kinney and leaving. _Way to go, Bradley_, he thought darkly. _The best thing that ever walked into your life and you were instrumental in letting him slip right through your fingers._

Not a day had gone by – hell, not even an _hour_ – that he didn't wonder how Justin was doing. It had been extremely hard to say goodbye to him; with Kinney there he didn't get a chance to say _nearly_ what he had wanted to say. He had wanted to tell him again much he was attracted to him, how he wanted him to stay; how he was _falling in love with him_, despite having only known him for a relatively short time.

And now he was gone – with no easy way to reach him. At least until now – it seemed that perhaps an opportunity to find out how he was doing and locate him might have just been handed to him unexpectedly. That and the fact that he had a seminar coming up later in the week in Pittsburgh gave him a little hope and encouragement that perhaps it wasn't too late to tell Justin what he had meant to say before. He had always told Justin he would be honest with him about his condition, and he HAD been; what he had failed to do, though, was be totally up front with him regarding his feelings for him. Now maybe he would get that chance after all.

He bit his lower lip thoughtfully; well, there was only one way to find out who this Keller was, and why he was calling him. Picking up his cell phone, he glanced quickly at the note and punched in the number that was given to him.

"Keller," he heard a short, concise greeting after a couple of rings.

"Yes, Dr. Keller…..My name is Andrew Bradley, I'm an ER doctor at Harrisburg General Hospital. My answering service said you'd have been trying to reach me."

"Yes, Dr. Bradley – Thank you for returning my call. I was trying to contact you in reference to a former patient of yours – Justin Taylor."

Andrew's heart began to quicken at the sound of Justin's name; so, he _had_ been correct in his assumption. "Yes…..Justin was a patient of mine in the emergency room a couple of weeks ago shortly after his accident. Is he seeing you for his treatment now?" he asked curiously.

"Well, he WILL be as of tomorrow morning," the doctor verified. "That's why I'm calling you; he has an initial appointment with me at 10 o'clock. Were you aware that Justin had a previous traumatic injury to his head approximately five years ago?"

That was easy to answer; Andrew had meticulously filed every piece of information on Justin in his mind, including whatever tidbits Brian Kinney had divulged regarding their life together. Kinney had mentioned the previous injury to him when he and Justin had been reunited. "Yes, actually, I WAS aware of it. I found out from Justin's partner." He stumbled briefly on the last word as he thought of the other man; just the thought now of that arrogant, cocky man still gave him a sour taste in his mouth.

"You mean Brian Kinney."

Andrew started in surprise. This doctor was familiar with him? "Uh…..Yes, that's right. You know him?"

"Yes," Dr. Keller verified. "I treated Justin before for his previous injury, and Mr. Kinney called me the other day to set up Justin's initial appointment with me – he has a medical durable power of attorney to act on his behalf," he explained. "Mr. Kinney has given me some of the background information regarding Justin's latest injuries, but I was hoping you could fill in some of the gaps." The neurologist paused before continuing. "I'm still trying to come to terms with him surviving that accident – I saw pictures of the aftermath and there was NO way anyone could have come out of that scene alive. I don't suppose YOU have an explanation for his survival?" he asked.

"No, not really," Andrew answered truthfully. In Justin's state HE certainly couldn't tell them and he hadn't been able to quiz the couple who had brought him to the hospital afterward. "The only thing I can guess is that he was somehow blown clear of the impact and wound up far enough away that he wasn't affected by the actual fire. Of course, that obviously doesn't mean he still wasn't injured."

"Yes, that's very true. I received some preliminary information from Mr. Kinney already, but since he was not privy to Justin's initial treatment, perhaps you could give me a synopsis of it so I can be better prepared for his appointment tomorrow. I've already obtained a copy of the MRI results from the urgent care center here, but I understand he had at least one MRI done at Harrisburg?"

"Yes, that's correct," Andrew verified. "I can arrange to send you a copy of the film and diagnostic results by e-mail so you'll have it before his appointment tomorrow. I assume Mr. Kinney has filled you in on Justin's memory loss?"

"Yes, at least as much as he's aware of. I understand Justin sustained a traumatic injury to the same area of his cerebral cortex where he was injured previously; his partner told me for the most part he sustained full retrograde amnesia."

Andrew immediately picked up on the most intriguing part of that statement. "_For the most part?" _he repeated. "Are you saying Justin has _regained_ some of his previous memory?" He recalled during Justin's stay with him that he had apparently remembered a few aspects of his past life through some of his dreams and his sketches; had he managed to remember additional details of his life by returning to Pittsburgh? Andrew recalled how he had had concerns that having Justin return to Pittsburgh so soon after his injury might not have been wise; it appears now, though, that perhaps his friend might have actually begun to restore some of his memory loss.

Dr. Keller noted the doctor's use of his patient's first name with interest before continuing, "Well, again, Dr. Bradley, I'm just going on what Mr. Kinney has told me. He claims that Justin _has_ begun to recall a few things regarding his past, but not to a large degree and not consistently. It's been rather sporadic and not very predictable. I just want to get as much background information on his treatment with you and any other doctors there before his visit. Can you either e-mail me your medical records or have them faxed to me at the hospital? I would like to study them as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course," Andrew responded; he would do whatever he could to help Justin recover. "E-mail would probably be faster and more efficient. Give me your address and I'll contact the records department at the hospital to see that you are sent them within the next few hours. By the way, the hospital has been wanting to update his contact information for their records since he relocated back to Pittsburgh. Would you have that information available? He left rather abruptly and did not leave any forwarding information." Andrew knew he was only being half-truthful; the hospital _did _need to update their information on Justin, but that wasn't the only reason why he was asking. He desperately wanted a way to contact his former roommate once he arrived in Pittsburgh for the seminar, and this doctor just might be able to provide what he needed. He held his breath momentarily while he waited for the other man's reply.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Dr. Keller informed him. "I'll have my secretary look up the most recent address and phone number information we have for Justin and make sure she forwards it to you tomorrow. Would that be satisfactory?"

Andrew smiled to himself. "Yes, that would be fine," he assured the other doctor. _That will do nicely._

After giving Andrew his e-mail address, Dr. Keller prepared to end their conversation but not before Andrew had to ask him, "Honestly, Doctor, what do you feel Justin's chances are for a full recovery? I'm by no means an expert when it comes to retrograde amnesia but everything I've ever read seems to indicate a person inflicted with that injury very seldom recovers fully from their memory loss."

He heard Dr. Keller sigh. "Unfortunately, Dr. Bradley, you are correct; patients who sustain such a traumatic injury as Justin appears to have suffered rarely are able to fully restore their past memory. Of course, there's always an exception to that rule and Justin has beaten the odds before; he's definitely a fighter. I should know more after my meeting with him tomorrow, but I suspect he will need further testing to determine his best course of treatment."

"We had preliminarily discussed hypnosis, in addition to other treatments. Would that possibly help him?" Andrew suggested. He recalled how upset Justin had been with his inability to recall even some of the more important details of his previous life, including his family and even his name; surely there was some treatment that could be effective for him, even if it only helped to partially restore his memories.

"It's a possibility, yes," Dr. Keller answered reflectively. "But again, in most cases of this particular type of amnesia, which is unfortunately the most severe kind, we very seldom are successful in restoring memory loss, no matter _what_ techniques are used. The fact that Justin apparently _has_ remembered some details, though, even if they are few, is still a somewhat hopeful sigh, however. I never say impossible, Doctor – there's always someone who comes along and receives a miracle from time to time – I've seen it happen with my own eyes. Maybe that's what will happen with this young man, too."

Andrew nodded, even though he knew Dr. Keller couldn't see him. _I hope he's right, Justin,_ he thought. "I hope so, Dr. Keller. I think….._very highly_ of him. He's a very talented man." _And so much more, too._

_Hmmm…I suspected as much_. Dr. Keller could tell by the soft inflection in the other man's voice that for whatever reason this person appeared to have more than just a professional interest in his patient. "Yes, he is," Dr. Keller responded aloud. "I've seen some of his artwork. Amazing stuff. In fact, I've got one of his paintings hanging in my office as a thank you from him for the last time I treated him. I think that young man's going to go far in his career and I'm going to wind up with a valuable masterpiece." The doctor laughed softly before continuing, "Just don't tell HIM I said that or he'll want his painting _back_."

Andrew reached down to pick up the now-framed sketch Justin had done of the two of them during the cake baking fiasco. Smiling fondly at the recollection, he softly told the neurologist, "Your secret's safe with me, Doctor," before he bid him goodbye. If events transpired the way Andrew hoped, soon he would be able to see Justin again face to face.

_

* * *

_

Kinnetik – Sunday Evening

Jennifer couldn't help staring at her son as she picked at her meal. She and Justin's sister, Molly, had been invited over for a casual dinner with him and Brian. Molly had finally calmed down from her earlier excitement over seeing her brother for the first time since Jennifer had told her the stunning news over the phone that he was alive. Now she was happily chirping away about her school activities, almost as if that horrible blip in their lives had never happened. She smiled as she watched Justin's facial expressions as Molly rambled on about being in the school band, going to her first dance at the new building, and about her plans for a beach vacation with her best friend once school was out for the summer.

Jennifer watched as her son's face displayed a multitude of emotions, from surprise that Molly could utter so many sentences without coming up for air, to amusement at the ability Molly had to move rapid-fire from one subject to another, and then eventually to what appeared to be some tiredness, no doubt from his and Brian's motoring adventure earlier today. She had been delighted to learn that her son had had another, albeit small, flash of recollection at Britin. When she and Brian had had a few moments alone in the living room earlier tonight, he had told her that Justin was beginning to recall a few more details of his life before the accident; she held onto such moments of her son's greedily, because these were what gave her hope that eventually her son might fully recover.

"Jennifer?" She noticed with a start that everyone at the table had suddenly gone quiet, even Molly, and were staring at her. She tore her gaze away somewhat sheepishly from her son to return Brian's intent look. "Everything okay?" he asked her.

She nodded, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring at her son; it was just that even after getting more accustomed to the idea, she still couldn't keep from drinking in the sight of her only son back in her life again, alive and relatively well.

She smiled in reassurance, looking over at Justin, who smiled back at her in return. _How she had missed seeing him_. "I'm fine," she replied. She shook her head, feeling somewhat silly. "I'm sorry, it's just hard not to stare at you," she told her son, who smirked in understanding. Justin had been getting a lot of those types of stares from his friends lately and he was getting used to it by now. He only hoped that soon they wouldn't keep staring at him as if he would disappear any second.

"It's okay, Mom," he told her; her heart leapt at the title. She could tell by her son's look that he still didn't quite register their connection, at least emotionally, but it sounded _so_ wonderful to hear him call her _Mom_ anyway. "I'm sort of getting used to that look; you know, the one where I'm an exhibit at the zoo or something? Or maybe like one of those weird-looking freaks at the sideshow." As he noticed her look of guilt and horror at his last quip, he added hastily, "No, it's okay – _really_. I know you don't mean it that way – I know it takes some getting used to, I guess. I just hope someday soon everyone starts to look at me again like I'm _normal_ for a change."

Brian looked over at his partner, who was trying hard to stay nonplussed despite all the attention his return had garnered. He was convinced more than ever that it had been the best course of action not to publicize Justin's miraculous return just yet; if he was getting this type of reaction from the people who knew him the best, he could imagine how sensational news of his return would be to the general public, especially the press. He wanted to spare Justin as much of that as possible, at least for now; it was more important that he concentrate, instead, on his recovery. He glanced at his watch, noting that it was well past 8:00 p.m. Not late in the normal sense of the word, but he had seen several not-so-successful attempts by his partner to hide some yawns and his face had taken on a drawn, tired look. For the umpteenth time, Brian would need to remind his partner that he had just gotten out of the hospital less than two weeks ago and he was going to have to rest, especially in light of his visit tomorrow with Dr. Keller.

He stood up from his chair and pushed it back. Picking up his plate, he asked Justin's mother, who didn't really know how to respond to her son's comments, "Jennifer….Would you mind helping me take the dishes back to the dishwasher?" She sighed inwardly in relief with the diversion of something to do as she willingly picked up her and Molly's plates to follow Brian over to the kitchen area.

"How is he, really?" Jennifer probed her son's partner softly, hoping Justin wouldn't overhear. Even though the title of _Mom_ had rolled off Justin's tongue fairly easily, their conversation had still sounded stilted and awkward to her ears, and the smile she had received was more of a polite one, not an honest-to-goodness full-press smile like her son was known to bestow instead.

Brian stole a glance back at Justin, who was speaking quietly with Molly. "He's hanging in there; but it's still very frustrating for him." He was somewhat reassured to see Molly and Justin with their heads close together, sitting side by side as Justin mainly listened to Molly continue to regale him with tales from her school adventures, no doubt. As Molly had gotten older the past few years, Brian had noticed her shyness slowly breaking away and noted that she was becoming a lot more outgoing. Just before Justin was supposed to return to Pittsburgh, he had mentioned that they had been doing a lot of instant messaging when Molly got home from school, where they would discuss her latest woes with algebra and her various boy troubles. Justin had commented on how much closer they have become recently. Of course, that was before the event that had effectively torn away the budding relationship he and Molly had been working so hard to achieve; now it was as if they were having to start all over again.

"But you _did_ tell me he is beginning to remember more?" she asked him hopefully, sneaking her own glance back at her children, who fortunately had their backs to her and Brian presently. The last thing she wanted was Justin being resentful or suspicious over her prying into his condition. She knew that despite his present affliction, he still continued to be stubborn and hated to have to ask for help from anyone. This time, however, he wasn't going to have a choice if he hoped to get better. "He IS going in to see Dr. Keller tomorrow, right?"

Brian nodded his head. "He's got an appointment to see him at 10:00. I've already talked to Dr. Keller to fill him in as much as possible about his condition."

Jennifer bit her lower lip tentatively. "I would be happy to go with him." She knew, though, that her offer wouldn't really be accepted; she already knew what Brian's response would be. Since she had finally acquiesced before and allowed Justin to come stay with him after the bashing, Brian had seemed to be the one person who could get through to Justin and help him to heal. She had to trust that it would be the same this time as well. That didn't mean that she wouldn't keep worrying about him, however.

"I appreciate the offer, Jennifer, but I've already told Cynthia not to expect me in until at least early afternoon. If it was up to me, I wouldn't go in at all, but I can already hear Justin's reaction if I tell him I'm going to stay home with him afterward. There would no doubt be indignant shouts about not needing a fucking babysitter and coddling involved if I did that. That doesn't mean that one or more of his friends might just happen to drop in, though," he hinted none too subtly.

She smirked. "Sounds like a good plan to me. And you're right – that would go over none too well at all, if I know my son. Whether his memory is intact or not, he would definitely resent that attempt."

"You're damn right he would," he growled. "I supposed a miniature GPS would be out of the question?"

She grinned. "If you could figure out where to put it, I'd be willing to give it a try. But somehow I don't think that'll work, either. Better go back to the _friends just happening to stop_ by ploy."

"I think you're right," Brian grimaced. "Now I have the distinctly unpleasant task of trying to get your son to go lie down before he collapses at the dining room table. He looks like he's worn out, but he absolutely _hates_ to be called on it."

She wiped her hands on a nearby towel before turning to walk back into the dining area. "Well, I think it's about time for me and Molly to go, anyway. Maybe that will give you a little more leverage. Molly's constant yammering would wear _anyone_ out, even someone with their memory intact," she cracked. "I think poor Justin's working on memory _overload_ right now where his sister's concerned." She looked over at her son sympathetically, her eyes beginning to tear up just a bit. "He's trying so hard to deal with his situation, Brian. It's not fair that he has to go through this twice. He's always been so regretful that he couldn't remember the prom when you showed up and danced with him. I don't know how many times he's mentioned that to me over the years; that sort of pales next to the challenge he has _now_. I sure hope Dr. Keller can give him some type of promising news – for ALL our sakes as well as his."

"Hey," they heard a soft voice calling them out of their concentrated conversation. "You two look awfully serious over there," Justin observed pointedly. "What are you discussing, as if I didn't know?" He stared at them intently; he didn't have to be a psychic or have superhuman hearing to guess he was the subject of their avid discussion for the past few minutes.

"Just swapping recipes, Sunshine," Brian quipped, even though he knew they had been caught dead to rights; he should have guessed any prolonged conversation between him and his partner's mother would be noticed quickly. He lightly placed his hand on the small of Jennifer's back as he led them back toward the dining room. "All done now," he reported with a slight smile as he approached the blond and placed a brief kiss on top of his head. "As soon as I go out and pick some blackberries, I can try that wonderful cobbler recipe."

Justin twisted his mouth and rolled his eyes. "Yeah…..right." Before he had a chance to speak further, however, he found himself stifling a large yawn.

"That's our cue to leave," Jennifer sternly told him as she nodded her head over at her daughter in a motion to silently prod her to rise from her chair and prepare to depart. "Molly has school tomorrow and you need your rest," she lectured him.

"But, Mom," Molly began to protest. "I want to stay and talk to Justin some more." Jennifer had to smile at that comment; it hadn't been too long ago that Molly hadn't really wanted much to do with her big brother. She had been too involved in her typical pre-teen melodrama. Now, however, lately they had become closer and her daughter hadn't realized how much she would miss Justin until she thought he was gone for good. She could see that her daughter was almost afraid to leave now for fear he would somehow disappear from her life again; she had begun to appreciate having a protective and loving older brother.

"Don't worry, Molly," Justin assured her as he lightly ruffled her hair. "I'll IM you tomorrow afternoon, okay? I'm not going anywhere." While Brian and her mom has conducted their own tete-a-tete at the dishwasher, Justin had taken advantage of his time alone with Molly to continue trying to catch up with her and his previous life; he had found out from her that the two of them had been faithful web buddies on an almost daily basis through their instant messages, and he was eager to assume that activity with her; it would be one more way he could hopefully begin to get his life back.

Molly leaned into her big brother's side as his arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer. He gave her a tight squeeze before releasing her and smiled. "I'll see you soon, okay?" She smiled back somewhat shyly and nodded at him before she turned somewhat reluctantly to join her mother.

Jennifer reached over to place a kiss on her son's cheek. "I'll give you a call to see how it goes with Dr. Keller," she said; she was glad to see Justin nod in acceptance; she hadn't been quite sure how we would react to her wish to know how his doctor visit went. "If you need _anything_," she reiterated, glancing over at Brian, also, "call me – I mean it." As she passed by Brian, she felt the urge to kiss him on the cheek as well; looking up at him, she briefly placed a slender hand to curl around his cheek before she mouthed the words "thank you" to him. "Take good care of him, Brian," she said aloud as she lovingly grasped her daughter's hand to lead her out of the loft. As she swung the metal door to the side to leave, she whispered one last thought to her son: "I love you, Honey," before she and Molly quietly departed.

Once the door was slid back into place, Justin and Brian found themselves enveloped in quiet once again; the silence being punctuated occasionally by a siren going by outside. It seemed like no matter what time of day it was, there was always some sort of emergency vehicle going by. Brian guessed it was the price you paid for being in the thick of a busy city. By now, the two of them had gotten so used to it, though, that they normally didn't pay it any mind. Tonight, though, as they stood there together, their breaths softly echoing in the room, the sirens seem to be more pronounced than normal.

"Your sister was so glad to see you, Justin," Brian said at last. "She's grown up a lot in the last couple of years. She didn't quite know _what_ to think about me when we first met," he reminisced. "Although….I guess you could say that about your mother as well."

Justin looked over at him intently, trying to read between the lines. "She didn't approve of us at the beginning, did she?" he surmised astutely. Having been twelve years younger than him, and now knowing the circumstances of their first meeting, he couldn't say he was surprised, though.

"No, she didn't," Brian answered truthfully. "She thought I was only interested in where my next fuck was coming from, and nothing else. Actually, that _IS_ what I had in mind at the beginning." He smiled wistfully. "Somewhere along the line, though, that changed," he admitted softly. "You….have a habit of _lingering_; I should have guessed your intention from the get go. It was a concerted effort to wear me down. You stuck to me like glue until I couldn't even remember why I kept trying to push you away. By then you were like a stray dog that shows up uninvited – I was so attached to you I couldn't let you go." He grimaced, caught in one of those emotion-baring moments he so used to loathe. He still found it difficult to be upfront about his feelings, but over the past few years Justin had managed to wear him down to where he didn't look upon it as being quite so distasteful and lesbionic. Hell, look what he had done at Britin – _for my prince_. God, did he ever think he would say anything like that _ALOUD? _But for some reason, with Justin all bets were off.

Justin smiled tenderly at his partner's heartfelt words; somehow it seemed so much more poignant when emotion-laden words fell from this man's lips than anyone else's, perhaps because somehow he could see how difficult such confessions were for him. "Well….I'm glad for my own sake that I was persistent, because I think I got the prize in this deal," he said almost shyly. He would never be able to fully explain how much it meant to him that Brian had found him in Harrisburg and returned him to his old life so he could hopefully recover what he had lost. The man's loyalty and love for him were almost too much to contemplate. He tried to concentrate on Brian's eyes that were peering back at him lovingly rather than the nagging doubts in his head that he would ever be able to fully regain what he had lost by the accident. He forced himself to think positive thoughts that Dr. Keller would be able to help guide him toward the correct path to his recovery.

"Don't sell yourself short, Sunshine," Brian softly chided him. He reached out a hand to curl it around the blond's soft nape hair and affectionately feather it through his long fingers. "You're not so bad yourself," he kidded him. His light tone slowly dissolved into something more intense as his hazel eyes honed in on the plump, lush lips he so adored. Brian's tongue darted out to quickly moisten his lips, a motion that did not go undetected by his partner, whose sapphire eyes widened slightly in rapt attention as they were held captive by Brian's powerful stare. Brian leaned in as he gently pulled Justin's head closer until their lips were softly locked together. His heart warmed at the way Justin's body seemed to melt into his as their kiss intensified. He heard a soft sigh rumble through his partner's lips as he angled his head for a deeper plunge into the sweetness of Justin's mouth. Their two heads turned slowly from side to side as they continued their attempt to reacquaint themselves with their previous life together. Brian moaned in exquisite torment as Justin's mouth finally accepted his tongue's invitation and he pulled their bodies even closer together. God, how he had missed this – this sensual dance they only the two of them shared together. Only Justin had ever made him feel this way, and he continued to experience the same, wonderful sensation each time they kissed and held each other even now, even as Justin still struggled to comprehend what they had lost and what Brian was trying so greatly to regain.

After a few minutes of magnificent exploration, Brian very reluctantly released Justin from his embrace to hold him gently at arms' length. Despite every bone in his body crying out for sexual release, he knew it was too much, too soon. He had to remember that at least Justin was becoming more comfortable with them kissing and caressing; to go that next step – to finally make love – would require Justin to give in completely, body and soul, and Brian knew his partner wasn't ready for that yet. He could tell in the slightly tentative, almost shy response he received when they came a little too close to the brink of surrender and in the eyes. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul, and in Justin that somewhat inane saying couldn't be more true; Justin's eyes were always so expressive and fascinating as he watched a myriad of emotions play within them. What he had told Justin before was still the truth, though; when they made love – and by now that was what it was – he wanted to see total surrender in his partner's eyes, total, unconditional love – and regretfully he had yet to see that. Oh, what a glorious day that would be when he _did_!

He noticed Justin staring back at him, almost in shame and guilt. "Did….Did I do something _wrong_?" he asked softly, his eyes showing a look of hurt. Was Brian rejecting him? He had welcomed his kisses – tonight they had seemed so right, so life-affirming, so soul-cleansing. Had he upset him somehow?

Brian closed his eyes; just why was he trying to be a martyr here? Justin was offering himself to him, no strings attached – but for what reason? As some sort of sacrificial lamb to pay Brian back for what he had done for him the past week? He didn't want Justin that way – he wanted him to surrender to him out of _love_, not sacrifice. Funny how that thought kept creeping back into their lives even now. "No, Justin, you haven't done anything wrong," he assured him, his voice barely above a whisper, as he pulled Justin against his chest and wrapped his arms firmly around his back in comfort. He nestled his head on top of the blond one as he continued. "This is enough for now, Sunshine. We need to step back a little and take it slow. It's been a long day, we're both tired, and you have a big day tomorrow. Let's go get some sleep, okay?"

Justin closed his eyes as he laid his head against Brian's chest; he felt his partner's heart beating rapidly as it reverberated reassuringly against him. He was confused by Brian's gentle rebuff to his encouragement; didn't he _want_ him? He knew that was silly – after everything his partner had done in the past week to reassure him of his love for him, how could he even _think_ that? He remembered sadly, then, what Brian had said to him the other day – about when they made love again, he wanted Justin to look at him the way he used to; was that what was holding Brian back from taking what Justin was trying to so freely offer him? He didn't have any control over his emotions, as much as he might want to. Would Brian ever see what he so desperately wanted to see from him; what Justin wanted to give him? He sighed softly in frustration; this whole experience since the accident had been such an emotional roller coaster, and it was yet to come to the end. What that end would hold for both of them was obviously, painfully yet to be written.

"Okay, Brian," he finally answered softly. What else could he say? Resignation mixed in with a little pain bubbled up from the surface as he turned in Brian's embrace to be led to their bed. As the couple parted to sit on their respective sides of the bed to disrobe down to their briefs, Justin pushed the covers aside and slowly crawled in, he lay on his side with his back stiffly away from the other man. He was at least comforted by the fact that Brian immediately pushed back his own part of the covers to scoot closer to him and place a reassuring hand across his stomach to pull him close. "I do love you, Justin Taylor," he heard Brian softly murmur, before he closed his eyes in tired exhaustion and slowly drifted off into sleep, his partner's body wrapping him in a warm cocoon.


	40. Chapter 40:  His One Constant

_Monday Morning – Brian's Loft_

Brian paced back and forth in front of the couch as he spoke. "I _told_ you, Theodore…..He's going to see the neurologist today, that's why. Boardman Electronics will just have to fucking _wait_."

Justin lay in bed as he heard Brian trying to speak softly on his cell phone. Despite Brian's attempt at being quiet, Justin could still make out what he was saying. He was apparently speaking to Ted at the office about his appointment later this morning with Dr. Keller. And as a result, he was _also_ apparently rescheduling a client in order to go with him.

"I don't fucking _care_ if they change agencies," Brian growled a little louder now; he damn well knew how big a client Boardman was, but since Justin's accident, he found that his priorities had dramatically changed. His focus right now was getting his partner into Keller's office to try and help him recover fully. He didn't need a subordinate, however well-intentioned, telling him what was at stake here. "Listen to me…you're always telling me to depend on you, right? Well, Theodore, here's your goddamn chance! If you think it's so fucking important that Boardman meet with Kinnetik this morning, then take the mockups the art department has already done and you and _Cynthia_ handle it!" He slapped his phone shut in consternation; he didn't need this shit right now. If he lost the account, then he lost the account.

"Brian?" He sighed in frustration; he had tried not to awaken Justin yet, but apparently he had been louder than he thought. He turned to see his partner standing about 10 feet away, still clad only in his briefs and wearing a bedhead look; his blond hair was sticking up at odd angles and his eyes peered at him questioningly. "You were talking to Ted?"

Brian ran his hand over his face; there wasn't much point in trying to deny it; it was apparent Justin had overheard his conversation anyway. "Yeah," he said. "I…..was just rescheduling an appointment this morning at Kinnetik."

"That's what I thought," Justin flatly replied. "Brian…..Except for your quick visit to talk to Cynthia the other day, and the tour you gave me of the building, you haven't been to work since I got back."

"And your point is?" Brian responded a little curtly.

Justin narrowed his brows, not quite sure why Brian was getting perturbed at his observation. Could it be because he wasn't going to like what he had to say? "The point is, the last thing I want is to wind up costing you business because of some sense of responsibility you have for me. I can go see Dr. Keller alone."

"Oh, no," Brian protested immediately. "Number one – you don't even know where Dr. Keller's office is, much less even remember _HIM. _And I'm not _about_ to let you go over there alone."

"Why? I can take a cab, you know. And I can still read an office directory. Just because I can't remember some things doesn't mean I've become _illiterate_, too." Justin wasn't trying to sound ungrateful – he more than anyone else knew what Brian had done for him since they had been reunited – but he was quickly feeling like he was being smothered by all the constant attention his partner was giving him. It was almost as if he couldn't even use the bathroom by himself, or make something in the kitchen by himself – hell, do _anything_ alone – without Brian wondering if he was all right. He just couldn't help it – he was quickly getting tired of being babied and feeling like a fucking invalid all the time. Now Brian was possibly going to lose what sounded like a substantial account all because of him.

"Now don't go getting defensive, Justin," Brian countered; he recognized that look instantly. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"No, Brian, how would I _know it_? As you and everyone else have so conveniently pointed out to me, I _DON'T_ know, remember?" He crossed his arms over his chest; now he was supposed to be psychic, too?

"Justin," Brian began again, trying hard to be patient but finding it increasingly difficult. "I just think it would be best if I went with you because Dr. Keller _knows_ me. I'm the one he spoke to on the phone when the appointment was set up, and he knows me from the first time when you were injured." After Justin had come to stay with Brian at his loft, he had accompanied Justin on several visits to the neurologist's office to make sure his head injury was healing properly; of course, right now Justin couldn't recall any of those trips.

"You mean when that asshole took a baseball bat to my head." He noticed Brian flinch at little at his caustic comment; he found it surprising for some reason that even after all this time (Brian had provided a basic summary of the event), his partner apparently was still profoundly affected by the memory. In a way, he found it ironic that he could discuss it so casually when it obviously still remained a raw memory in the other man's mind.

Brian breathed in a few seconds to keep his voice even as he answered, "Yeah…..that's what I mean." He could tell Justin was getting aggravated by being coddled; despite his memory loss, his need to feel self-sufficient and independent apparently was still intact. "I was there with you when you saw the doctor then, and I think it would be a good idea if I went with you now."

Justin huffed out a soft breath of frustration; Brian had been so supportive since he had returned, but he felt guilty about his partner neglecting the business he had apparently worked so hard to regain. Brian had told him about Stockwell and how he had had to go into enormous debt to sponsor the political ads that had eventually been the man's downfall; the last thing he wanted was to possibly jeopardize all the hard work Brian had done to get back on top with his own business. "Brian…I appreciate everything you've done – _really_. But I can't let you sacrifice everything you've worked for because of _me_. It's just an office visit – I can handle it alone."

Brian shook his head in disbelief as he slowly walked over to Justin and placed his hands on the slender shoulders. "_Just an office visit?_ That's like saying a Ferrari is just a reliable form of transportation! Justin…..This is your _neurologist!_ The man who could possibly tell you whether or not you will regain your _memory_! This is NOT _just an office visit!_"

Justin abruptly shook himself loose from Brian's embrace, replying with eyes flashing, "You don't _know_ that! He may not be able to tell us anything that Andrew or the other doctors haven't _already_ told me! No one seems to have any answers for me, Brian; what makes you think Dr. Keller's going to be any _different?_" He turned and walked over to the loft's wall of windows overlooking the street below; it seemed lately that whenever something was troubling him or he just wanted to try and take his mind off his current predicament, he always migrated over to the windows. He wasn't really sure why – maybe it was just to try and find something - _anything _– to divert his attention away from his present situation; one that might or might not ever change.

He felt a pair of arms gently grasp his shoulders from behind. "No, Justin, you're right," Brian said softly. "We _don't know_. And maybe Dr. Keller won't tell us anything different. But then again, maybe he _will_. We can't just give up hope; not until we've exhausted every avenue of possible treatment. Not while there is one tiny sliver of hope that you will regain your past memories." He tenderly turned the blond around to face him. "Sunshine….." The unexpectedly sorrowful tone of his voice caused Justin to raise his eyes to meet his. "If you could only realize what we've been through – what we've had together – you would know it's worth every fucking chance we can take to get your memory back. Maybe there's something _else_ you've forgotten….you may have lost your memory and can't quite remember what we mean to each other, but _I _haven't forgotten," he reminded him softly. "Don't get me wrong – not a day goes by that I'm not grateful as hell that you didn't die in that accident." Justin saw a distinct flash of pain cross Brian's face as he reminisced about those awful days afterward when he thought the man he loved had died; Brian never, ever wanted to go through the kind of pain he had experienced during that time. "And I'm prepared to fucking start over again if we have to. But if you could only remember our bond…" He pursed his lips together as he let Justin go and turned to stand next to the blond at the window; he could see their reflections in the windows and noticed that to the casual eye, everything might appear absolutely normal. The two of them, however, knew differently; despite their small breakthroughs, Brian knew things may never go back to the way they were. But damn it, they had to keep _trying_. "If you could, Sunshine," he added a little softer this time, "then you would know this is not _just another office visit_." Maybe Brian was pinning his hopes too much on Justin's visit to Dr. Keller, but he couldn't help it; he longed to see Justin look at him again, not with pity or guilt, but with _love_.

Justin looked at Brian's face in the window as he examined themselves in the reflection; such a contrast – light and dark; tall and petite; blond and brunet. He could tell by Brian's impassioned statement just now that their bond, their _love _before the accident, must have been extraordinary, despite their outward differences. He also realized with more than a little shame that he _had_ forgotten that through all this turmoil, Brian's feelings hadn't changed for _him_. He could tell that Brian still loved him deeply by the unwavering support, concern and patience he had given him every day – hell, every _hour_ – since they have been reunited. He could only imagine the pain and uncertainty Brian must be going through, knowing that his feelings hadn't changed for him but not knowing if he would ever be able to fully reciprocate. Justin hadn't been the _only_ one hurt in the accident – there were all kinds of hurt and pain; Brian was just experiencing a different kind than HE was. Despite the differences, though, it didn't make it any less _real_.

Nevertheless, he still didn't want to cause any damage to the culmination of Brian's dream; if he was experiencing guilt already about not taking Brian's _feelings_ into consideration, he would feel even worse if Brian lost a lucrative account due to him. "But, Brian…." he began.

"No, Justin," he was sternly pulled up short as Brian flatly interrupted him. "I'm _going_ – end of discussion. The ad campaign is already drawn up and Ted and Cynthia are more than capable of presenting it. If that's not good enough for the client, then he didn't have enough confidence in my company's abilities to _begin with_. Are we on the same page, then?" He turned to stare into his partner's eyes, seeing the conflict there but hoping he would understand how important it was for him to be there with him – for _both _their sakes.

Justin softly sighed; despite his concerns, he knew Brian would not be persuaded to change his mind, so he didn't even try. "If that's what you want," Justin finally told him softly in resignation.

Brian nodded. "It is," he said, relieved. He flashed a slight smile of encouragement at his partner as he suggested, "Why don't go grab a shower and I'll fix us something quick to eat? I'm not much of a cook, but I think even _I_ can handle a bowl of Cap'n Crunch and a banana for you," he teased. Justin wasn't a real picky eater in the mornings; whenever he stayed over or lived at the loft, he always seemed to be running late or in a hurry to get somewhere so he typically just grabbed a toaster pastry or gulped down a bowl of cereal before he ran out. "Go ahead," Brian urged him as he took one of the pale hands in his; he didn't want them to be late for what could be a very important meeting with the doctor – at least he _hoped_ so.

Brian squeezed his partner's hands and offered a small smile. "Okay," Justin agreed; as Brian released his hands to let him go, Justin paused for a brief second to stretch up and place a small kiss on the brunet's lips. "Thanks," he whispered simply; a mere "thank you" wasn't _nearly_ enough for what Brian was doing for him, but for now it would have to be sufficient.

Brian nodded. "Any time," he murmured. He watched as Justin left to head toward the bathroom before he turned and sat down on the couch, placing his head in his hands. He wouldn't admit it to Justin, but he was _weary_. Weary of the doubt, weary of the constant wondering of _will this be the DAY?_ He longed to return to their days before the accident when he and Justin had made plans to finally be together again, in every sense of the word; his body craved the physical release that only Justin could give him. But perhaps most of all, he was weary of the façade of always seeming to be optimistic and confident that Justin would one day regain what he had lost. He was no medical expert when it came to amnesia, but it didn't take an expert to realize that the longer Justin remained in his present condition, the more likely it was that his condition was going to be _permanent_. If that happened, he knew Justin, then, would feel obligated to stay in their relationship whether he actually returned his feelings or not. And that was something he couldn't handle. He would rather never see Justin again than have him look at him with pity or obligation. He had always told Justin they were together because they _wanted_ to be, not because they HAD to, and he _still_ felt that way. That was why he was pinning his hopes perhaps unrealistically on his partner's visit today to his old neurologist; he only hoped his – _Justin's_ – dreams wouldn't be dashed once again.

He let out a loud sigh; this nay saying wasn't getting him anywhere and it was getting late. He stood up to walk into the kitchen to begin fixing something for Justin to eat, their impending doctor visit uppermost in his mind.

He had just poured out the milk into Justin's cereal when he heard his cell phone ringing again. Cursing inwardly at the thought that Theodore was calling him back with yet another concern, he stalked over to the coffee table where he had left his phone and snatched it up. "What?" he snarled into it, not bothering to check the caller I.D. first.

He heard a quiet, somewhat timid voice utter one word and he berated himself inwardly. "Daddy?"

"I'm…_sorry_, Sonny Boy." His voice instantly softened as he tenderly replied. "You just caught me at a bad time. How are you?"

"I'm okay, Daddy. But I _miss_ you. When are you coming back to visit me?"

_I wish I KNEW the answer to that question, Gus._ So much depended upon what happened today. "I….I'm not sure, Gus. Daddy's been really busy lately."

"Well, when you come back can you bring Poppa with you?" Brian could feel the hopeful excitement in his son's voice at the idea of Justin coming, too; his son and his partner had always shared a unique bond from the moment their lives had intertwined at Gus' birth. It was almost as if they were fated to be joined together forever – if Brian had anything to say about that, it was _exactly_ what he hoped would happen. At least he wouldn't have to tell his son now that he would never see Justin _again_; he just wasn't sure how – or _when_ – that might happen. The thought occurred to him that perhaps that was a question he should ask Dr. Keller later; it was possible that Brian's opinion as to why Justin and Gus shouldn't be reunited just yet might be incorrect, and he knew how much Gus would love to see his "other father" again.

"I'm not sure, Sonny Boy," he told his son gently. "We'll try to get back up there as soon as possible. It's just really hard right now to get away from Daddy's business." He hated to lie to his son, but it was impossible at the moment to tell his son the real reason; besides, the boy wouldn't really understand what was going on, anyway; hell, HE didn't really understand it, either.

"Okay, Daddy," his son told him; the obvious disappointment in his voice tore at Brian's heart as he heard one of Gus' moms in the background talking; the voice was muffled somewhat, however, so he couldn't ascertain which one it was. "Mommy wants to talk to you," he was told. "I _love you_, Daddy. And tell _Poppa_ I love him, too, okay?"

Brian bit his lip at the unexpected rush of sadness that suddenly surrounded him; he blinked to try and keep the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes as he replied, "We…..love you, _too_, Sonny Boy." _Oh, God…..this is SO hard_.

"Bye, Daddy. Here, Mommy," Brian heard his son say while he apparently passed the phone to one of his parents; there was a few seconds of pause as Brian heard one of Gus' mothers asking him to go with her to the backyard to swing; obviously a diversion, Brian surmised.

"Brian?" Lindsey asked.

Brian released a small breath, relieved that it was Lindsey instead of her pit-bull partner. "Yeah, Wendy?" he asked softly.

"Don't give me that Peter Pan crap right now, Brian," Lindsey reprimanded him sternly; she knew how much Brian was hurting over Justin's loss, but she was quickly losing patience when it affected Gus; no matter how painful it was going to be, it was time their son knew the truth. "You promised me and Mel that you would be back here by this weekend to talk to Gus," she reminded him. "Now you've left us with no choice but to tell him ourselves about Justin. I would have expected better of you, Brian."

Brian experienced a brief pang of panic; right now that would be the worst possible thing to do to Gus, and totally unnecessary now. "No, Lindsey," he quickly responded. "You can't do that."

"And why _not_?" she demanded. "Brian – we had an agreement. We would give you a little more time to decide how to tell him about Justin; you _promised_ us you would be back up by this weekend to take care of it in person. Obviously that didn't happen. So you've left us with no alternative but to have to tell him _ourselves._"

"No, Lindsey, you don't understand," he beseeched her. "Things have _changed_." He had never intended to tell her over the phone about Justin, but he could see he had no choice. Besides, it was _wonderful_ news – was what the harm in telling her?

"What has _changed_, Brian? Justin's still gone and he's still not coming back. It's not fair to Gus to keep the illusion going any longer. He deserves to know the truth. If YOU won't tell him, then, WE will. But I would have thought better of you, especially when it came to your son."

"No, that's NOT it, will you just LISTEN to me, for fuck's sake!" He said just a little more loudly than he meant to; he took a breath while Lindsey thankfully fell silent. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. Things HAVE changed, Wendy. There really IS a never-never land."

"What in the _hell _are you trying to _say_, Brian? Spare me the fairy tale bullshit and get to the point."

_Okay, Kinney, just spit it out_. "Justin's _alive_, Lindsey." The voice on the other side of the phone was absolutely silent now. _Well, at least I've got her attention_. "Did you HEAR me? I said HE'S ALIVE."

Lindsey shook her head; she had no idea what sorry game Brian was playing, and she knew how badly he wished that were true, but when you're dead, you're _dead, _at least in the literal sense. "Brian….." she began softly. "We'll always remember him – he was a special man – but it's time to deal with reality…."

Brian snorted. "Lindsey, will you just shut up and fucking _listen to me? _I'm not speaking _poetically_ here, I AM being realistic! Listen, it's a long story and I don't have time to go into all the details right now, but Justin _survived_ the accident. He was in a hospital in Harrisburg for a few days and was living there afterward until I found out he was alive and I went to get him. He's been back here in Pittsburgh for almost two weeks now at the loft."

Lindsey was absolutely stunned; Brian actually sounded like he was being _serious_. Was it possible Justin WAS alive and not just in a figurative sense? She found it hard to find her voice as she asked, "You _mean_ it? He really IS alive?" This was absolutely unbelievable; how was this _possible? _"HOW?"

"Like I said, it's a long story, Lindsey. But the worst part is – he's got what's called retrograde amnesia. He pretty much can't recall anything that happened prior to the accident, except for bits and pieces."

Lindsey was floored; she was sad, of course, to hear about Justin's memory problems; her friend had been through so much before after the bashing when he had had to undergo intensive therapy and treatment. Now he was apparently going to have to go through a similar regimen again. But she DID know one thing; Justin was extremely resilient and tough. If anyone could successfully come through such a difficult time, she knew that HE could. And she _also_ knew that Brian would be there to help him.

"Wow," she said. "That's…_incredible _news, Brian. _Wonderful_ news. It's unbelievable. How's he doing?"

Brian hesitated, trying to find the right words to describe his partner. "He's…..okay physically. He got pretty banged up after the accident, but his outside injuries are healing well. Inside, though…..that's _another_ issue. He gets pretty frustrated because he can't remember what he should; even his own _mother_, even Daphne. He hasn't forgotten _everything_, though. He still paints just as incredibly as he did before, and he HAS remembered bits and pieces of our life together." He huffed out a ragged breath through his lips. "And _Gus_…..he's remembered some past events with him, also_._" He smiled as he looked over at the portrait of him and Gus that Justin had painted after the accident; it had quickly become his all-time favorite, for a LOT of reasons. "He…..still has a long way to go, though, Lindsey. And he's getting more and more frustrated as each day goes by without him remembering anything more." He looked over to the bathroom to make sure Justin was still there; he didn't think it was a good idea right now for Justin to know he was talking to Lindsey about his current condition – somehow he had an idea his partner would resent yet another friend knowing he wasn't optimistic about his recovery. "He's getting ready to go see Dr. Keller this morning," he reported.

"His old neurologist?"

"Yeah, that's the one. I'm hoping he'll have a better idea of Justin's prognosis than the other doctors that treated him in Harrisburg. He's got the old records from Justin's first injury and I trust his opinion a lot more than the other doctors." _Especially Bradley – that man wasn't just interested in Justin as a PATIENT._ Brian didn't trust the man as far as he could _throw_ him; he wouldn't have been surprised if Bradley had told Justin certain things strictly because he hoped his partner would become dependent upon him to stay there with him in Harrisburg.

"Wow, Brian, I _still_ can't believe it – this is _incredible_. Wait until _Mel_ hears about this. Are you bringing Justin up here to see Gus? You said he had actually remembered some things about him – don't you think it might help him remember?"

Brian grimaced; that was the same thing he had been wondering, too; was he wrong about his opinion that it might be harmful to Gus or Justin in his present situation?

"I don't know, Lindsey," he told her. "I'd like to ask Dr. Keller about that. I guess I'm more worried about the effect it might have on Gus rather than Justin. It might help Justin to see him, but don't you think Gus is going to wonder what's going on? He's pretty perceptive for a six-year-old; he's going to know something's not quite right."

"Maybe," she conceded. "But I don't think you're giving him enough credit. He _loves_ Justin just like a second dad. He's not going to worry if Justin doesn't respond exactly the way he normally would. Surely just become Justin doesn't remember everything, it doesn't mean his _personality_ has changed. I don't know anything about memory loss, but the man that Justin is inside couldn't have changed."

Brian considered that. She was right – the traits that made Justin _Justin_ were still there; his need to be self-sufficient, his compassion and concern for others, his creativity, and his sweetness. None of that had changed. But what HAD changed was his _confidence_. His inability to remember had rendered him hesitant and unsure of himself. It was like he was afraid to take that further step in case he somehow fell off the cliff. He didn't have the foundation he so desperately was seeking – _his past_ – in which he could build upon to move forward. Without his past memory, he was like a blindfolded man walking in the pitch blackness. "You're right about that part, Lindsey," he said softly. "He's still _Justin_. But I think he's afraid – afraid of what's to come and what might never _be_." _Just like I am_. Before he sank deeper into his own morose thoughts, he added, "I'll ask Dr. Keller what he thinks – he would be the best judge of what would be best when it comes to Gus – _and_ Justin. Maybe it would do them _both_ good." _We could certainly USE some more good news._ "Uh….I'd better go, Lindsey. Justin's in the shower and should be out soon….I'm not sure it would be such a good idea for him to know we've been discussing this right now. He's got enough going on as it is. I'll call you again soon, okay?"

Lindsey heard the worried tone in Brian's voice; she was convinced he wasn't telling her everything that was going on, particularly how all this might be affecting _him_. She imagined everyone was so caught up in how Justin was doing that Brian may have been pushed to the wayside in the process. "Okay…..but if you need _anything_ – you call me, okay? The same goes for Justin. And try to get him up here to visit soon…..I really think it would do both of them good, and I know Gus is anxious to see him – and YOU – again."

Brian let out a breath to try and release his tension; there were so many issues – and people – to consider in this convoluted mess. He would never blame Justin for what had happened – he couldn't help his condition – but things certainly seemed a lot less complicated before the accident. Well, as he told his partner before – this was the way things were, and they would just have to fucking deal with as best they could. "I'll try, Linds. Give Sonny Boy a kiss for me."

"Okay," she said, still concerned for her friend. "I love you, Brian."

"You, too, Wendy," he whispered before they disconnected the call. He had timed their conversation just right, because no sooner he had snapped his cell phone shut than he heard the shower tap being turned off and the glass door opening up. A few minutes later, as he was drinking his coffee at the counter, he noticed his fully-dressed partner emerging from the bedroom. He forced himself to tamper his worries down and pasted a slight smile on his face as he asked, "Ready for a little breakfast?" Justin nodded and sat down next to him at the counter as Brian pushed his bowl of cereal toward him. They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes before Justin asked, "Brian?"

"Yeah, Sunshine?" He peered over to notice a thoughtful expression on his partner's beautiful face.

"What do you think Dr. Keller's going to tell us today?"

_That was definitely the $64,000 question, wasn't it?_ There was really no way of knowing that answer, though. "Honestly…..I have no _idea_," he replied truthfully. "I think he has a pretty good handle on what's happened to you since the accident. I told him everything I knew, and he was planning on calling the hospital in Harrisburg to talk to the staff there, as well as gather the results of your tests." _Including talking to that arrogant Bradley, no doubt_. "Once he has a chance to talk directly with you, and maybe run some more tests, I would think he should have a pretty good idea of what he's dealing with."

Justin nodded as he absentmindedly stirred his cereal. He was so anxious about what the doctor would say, he realized he really didn't have an appetite – his stomach was too tied up in knots. With a resigned sigh, he dropped his spoon back into the mostly untouched bowl. He shook his head in disgust. "I can't eat," he announced. "I'm too nervous." He stood up and rubbed his hands on his thighs. "Can we just _go_?" he pleaded softly. "I just want to get this over with."

Brian looked up sympathetically at his partner. He could certainly understand how he felt; he felt the same way. His stomach was churning as he pondered all the possible outcomes of Justin's visit with Dr. Keller. Would they get any positive news from him? Or would it be the same old, pessimistic refrain? There was only way to find out. He pushed his barstool back away from the counter; gulping down one last swallow of his now tepid coffee, he nodded. "Let me get my keys and cell phone," he responded. He paused, however, for a few seconds before he turned to grab them off the coffee table. "Justin….."

"Yes?" Justin glanced over questioningly at his partner who was standing a few feet away.

"Whatever the outcome…I'll be there with you. I'm not going _anywhere_," Brian vowed softly.

Justin felt the sting of tears in his eyes; once again he wondered what he had done in life to deserve the unwavering support and love of this beautiful man. "I….." He really didn't know quite way to say. How do you properly say _thank you_ to a man who refused to give up on you no matter what?

Brian looked at his partner's expressive face and his heart broke a little for the pain that both he – and Justin – were having to go through. But it would never be _anything_ like the pain he would be enduring right now if Justin hadn't survived the crash. No matter what happened, he would never forget that fact. "Come here," he gently urged; there was a very brief hesitation before Justin fell into his open, waiting arms. As he wrapped his hands comfortingly around the slender back, he felt Justin returning the embrace as his arms surrounded Brian's waist. He heard Justin give a little sniffle as he rested his head on top of the blond hair. His voice vibrated against the top of Justin's head as he murmured, "We're going to get through this, Justin. Together. Whatever happens."

He felt Justin nod beneath him; knowing his partner's tender nature, he figured at the moment he was too choked up to say anything out loud. He allowed himself to relish in the feel of the man he loved nestled in his arms for a few seconds longer before he gave him a small squeeze and reluctantly let him go. He reached down with his hand, however, to grasp the pale chin tenderly and gently pull his face up to meet his gaze. He tried to smile reassuringly at him before he couldn't resist leaning down to place a soft kiss on the lips he knew so well. "I'll be right back," he whispered as he turned to retrieve his keys and cell phone from the coffee table.

He noticed when he returned a few seconds later that Justin had managed to compose himself somewhat; he had donned his light jacket and waiting by the door for him. "Let's get this show on the road," Brian quietly urged him as he swung the heavy door open, trying to lighten the heaviness that had suddenly begun to permeate the loft. He waited for Justin to precede him before he closed his eyes briefly as if in a fervent prayer and followed his partner over to the elevator.

_

* * *

_

Alleghany Hospital – Pittsburgh; Two Hours Later

Justin rested his hands on his thighs as he jiggled his legs nervously; he and Brian had been sitting in Dr. Keller's waiting lobby for 30 minutes now and each minute they waited, the butterflies in his stomach increased exponentially. As soon as he and Brian had registered at the front desk, he had been whisked off unexpectedly to get a CT scan and MRI of his head done. An hour later, they were back in the waiting room and had now been waiting for the past 30 minutes to actually see the doctor.

The anticipation was fucking_ killing _him; the not knowing. On the one hand, he was so anxious to hear what this doctor had to say; but on the other hand, he was so afraid of just what he _would_ say. Would it be good news, or the same old pessimistic diagnosis?

"Justin," he heard his partner whisper; Brian reached over to place one of his hands of top of Justin's. "Try to calm down, okay?" He gave Justin's hand a brief squeeze before releasing it.

Justin stopped jiggling his legs nervously, and instead wrapped his arms around himself as he rocked back and forth in the nondescript fabric chair. "I can't _help_ it, Brian. I'm so fucking nervous. I feel like this is my last hope. If Dr. Keller doesn't have good news for me, I think that's it – there isn't anything else that can be done. My past life is going to be one, big, fucking hole that will never be filled."

"Don't talk that way, Justin," Brian demanded sternly. "I've already told you – no matter what happens, we'll _deal_ with it. If your memory doesn't come back, we'll just fill in the gaps. Your family and friends will help you, and I'LL help you. You won't go through this _alone._" Brian tried to sound confident and reassuring, but truth be told, HE was fucking scared, too. Scared that even if he and Justin's family and friends _could_ start to fill in the gaps of his missing memory, it still wouldn't necessarily bring back Justin's feelings for him. If it didn't, how would he deal with _that_?

"Mr. Taylor? The doctor will see you now." Justin looked up to see a nurse standing in the doorway with the entrance open. He inhaled and let out a shaky breath as he and Brian stood up together to enter the office's hallway leading to the examination areas. "This way," the nurse instructed professionally, holding the door open for them to enter.

"Come on, Sunshine," Brian urged his partner softly, unashamedly reaching over for his hand; he was gratified to see Justin readily accepting the support as he curled his hand in his. "This way," the nurse instructed them once they had entered the inner hallway. She led them toward the end of the rather short pathway until she reached the last door on the right. Knocking on it, she received an response of "Come on In" before she opened the door to allow Brian and Justin to enter.

Dr. Grant Keller smiled as he recognized both visitors; it had been approximately four years now since he had last seen Justin for his first injury. He was sorry that the circumstances now had warranted a return visit. "Justin…Brian," he greeted both men as he stood up. He motioned with his hand for them to come closer. "Take a seat," he instructed them, as he pointed toward two black leather chairs facing his massive, oak desk. Justin noticed a wall of windows behind Dr. Keller's desk; the other three walls were lined with bookcases stuffed to the ceiling with all types of books.

"It's been quite a while, you two," he said, as he resumed his seat behind the imposing desk. "I wish it were for a better reason," he added regretfully.

"Well, I wish I could say it's good to see you again, Doctor, but I think you'll understand why I can't under the circumstances," Justin responded somewhat tensely; he had been on edge ever since they had arrived at the hospital.

Brian and the other man exchanged a knowing look; Brian had already cautioned Dr. Keller that Justin was pretty frustrated over his lack of progress in regaining his memory. "Yes, I certainly understand that, Justin," he answered smoothly. "This is not the situation under which I had hoped to see you again. The last time I saw you, you had recovered well from the previous injury. When Brian called me to tell me about your surviving that train accident in Harrisburg, I was stunned, mainly because I had followed that story with great interest and had heard there were no survivors. I think the fact that you _DID _survive somehow is a testimonial to your endurance."

"Or just plain, dumb luck," Justin curtly answered; he was quickly growing impatient with this waiting game. "Look, Doctor, can we just cut out the pleasantries? I don't mean to be rude, but we all know why I'm here. I wanna know if I'm going to get better."

Brian raised an eyebrow a little in surprise; Justin certainly wasn't beating around the bush here. He couldn't really blame him, though – he was dying to know the answer to that question himself.

Dr. Keller sobered; to Brian that wasn't a very hopeful sign. "Yes, I understand," he responded, not seeming to take Justin's brusqueness personally. "I'm sure it's been a trying three weeks for both of you." He reached over to pick up a folder, presumably containing Justin's records. "Okay, I'll cut to the chase without any further preamble. As you know, I had you undergo another MRI as well as a CT scan of your brain a short while ago. Normally, there's a few days' delay until the radiologist has a chance to interpret the reports. But there _is_ an advantage to being Chief of Staff over the Neurology Department; namely, when I want something done immediately, that's what happens. That's why I had you wait out in the waiting room for a while – I needed to get the test results back from downstairs. They just sent them up a few minutes ago. I also had Dr. Bradley at Harrisburg General e-mail me copies of the two MRI's that were done there, as well as obtain their medical records. Dr. Bradley was very helpful in providing the background information regarding your treatment there, Justin."

Brian bristled inwardly. _Yes, I'm SURE he was MORE than happy to do that – anything to try and weasel his way back into Justin's life again._ He looked over at Justin, who was literally sitting on the edge of his seat waiting for the prognosis from his old doctor.

Dr. Keller continued, "I also had the urgent care center here send me a copy of the third MRI done a couple of weeks ago so I could see any differences in the swelling around your brain as well as any peripheral bleeding that may be occurring."

This was it, Brian thought. He has all the pieces to the puzzle now – so what did the completed picture _tell him?_

"And?" Justin prodded him impatiently. _Please let it be good news._

Dr. Keller paused to take a breath, considering the best approach. "Well, first of all, I'm happy to say that the swelling around the injury has decreased dramatically since the initial trauma occurred. The area around your cerebral cortex still shows tissue scarring, which is not surprising in this type of injury, but the swelling is almost non-existent now. I see no reason why that trend won't continue. And both the MRI and CT done today show no signs of any bleeding around your brain. This is all excellent news; you should not experience any more headaches or dizziness as a result of the injury."

Justin had the distinct feeling that despite Dr. Keller's positive spin on his test results, he was about to drop the other shoe. "That's all well and good, Doctor, but that's not what I wanted to know. What I _want_ to know is if I'm going to get my memory back."

Brian's heart dropped as he saw a look of sympathy appear on Dr. Keller's voice as the doctor sighed. "I'm not going to lie to you, Justin. I've always been straight with you and I won't change that now. As much as I know it's not what you wanted to hear, the odds of you having your past memories restored three weeks after this type of injury are minimal. In cases of retrograde amnesia, especially those as severe as your case, typically if memory does not return within a week at the most the odds of ever regaining those memories are practically nil. I'm sorry, Justin," Dr. Keller told him softly. He truly felt sorry for this young man who had been through so much to be so young; after he had shown so much resilience after his assault, he deserved to experience some tranquility in his life. Dr. Keller has followed his patient's quickly burgeoning art career closely over the past year, and knew he was just coming into his own as an artist. Now this. He tried to put a positive spin on the situation. "I understand from Brian, however, that your artistic talent still remains intact. That's something to be grateful for – most patients that experience retrograde amnesia have to be re-taught their skills, and few seldom approach the same level of expertise they originally had. You're lucky you still have your artistic ability."

Justin huffed. "Yeah…..I'm _lucky_," he said sarcastically. He had had his heart set on getting good news from Dr. Keller; that hope had just been blown to pieces.

Brian, however, wasn't as easily deterred. "But, Dr. Keller, Justin _has _remembered bits and pieces of his previous life. How is that possible if he has so little chance of recovery? And you just mentioned how unusual it is that he still maintains his artistic ability. If he has such little chance of having his memory restored, how is that _possible_?"

Dr. Keller cocked his head thoughtfully. "I admit, Brian…that _does_ have me perplexed. I've treated several patients with retrograde amnesia as well as read numerous articles in trade journals about this condition, and I've _never_ seen a patient who has exhibited partial memory restoration as well as the ability to recall creative skills. Justin seems to be the exception to everything I've read."

That was all Brian needed to hear; he didn't fucking _care_ WHAT this doctor thought, even though he respected his opinion. HE was the one that knew Justin the best, and the Justin he knew had beaten the odds before, and he would _again_. "What about hypnosis?" he pressed. "We were told this might be a possible treatment for him." He looked over at his partner and was concerned to see that Justin seemed to have gone into a type of trance; an indifference all of a sudden, as if he had given up hope after what Dr. Keller had just said.

"Well, hypnotherapy _can_ be effective with certain types of retrograde amnesia, but normally only those that have occurred as a result of some type of _emotional _trauma, not through a physical cause. I'm afraid in Justin's case it wouldn't really be helpful." He tried to smile at Justin to somehow reassure that not all hope was lost, even though internally he had doubts the young man would ever see any substantial improvement. He didn't want to give him false hope, but Justin didn't seem to be following the normal pattern of a patient with severe retrograde amnesia. "Who knows?" he told the couple. "You _have_ remembered some events from your past. The brain is the last, great unknown region of the body. There is always a chance you will defy the odds."

Justin finally found his voice to speak again as he snorted. "You mean like the _weather forecast?_ Like when they say it's partly cloudy with a chance of rain? That way, if it's mainly sunny and _doesn't_ rain, the weatherman's _still_ right. You really don't think there's a chance I'll regain my memory, do you?" he asked the doctor pointedly. He was feeling more and more like he and Brian had simply wasted their time coming here – this doctor wasn't telling him anything more than the other doctors had; he was simply dressing up the same old bullshit more attractively.

Brian still wasn't satisfied as he prodded the doctor, "What about exposing him to places and people he's familiar with? Will that help him or do him _harm?_"

Dr. Keller sighed again; he knew no matter how he responded to these two, they were going to think he was being wishy-washy. The truth was, though, the brain really _was_ a mystery for the most part; everything really _was_ mainly unexplained when it came to that part of the body. "Most research indicates exposing the patient to places and people he or she is familiar with can be helpful in triggering memories; but that being said, you don't want to _overwhelm _him with them. Too much too soon could be detrimental."

"That's not exactly a straightforward answer, Doctor," Brian curtly responded; he looked over at Justin, whose face clearly showed irritation as well as the same emotion he had seen so many times before: _frustration_. Brian certainly knew _that_ emotion, because he was feeling that way right now as well. He noted with alarm, however, that Justin's frustration seemed to be mixed in this time with something else: _hopelessness._

Dr. Keller nodded, conceding, "I realize that. But that's the best I can do, gentlemen. I wish I could be more helpful, as well as optimistic. The only advice I can give you is NOT to give up. There are always exceptions to the rule; the fact that you have actually remembered some things on your own as well as maintained your artistic ability proves to me that you are _not_ following what typically happens in these types of cases. That being said, though, I just don't want to give you false hope. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful than that."

He stood up as an obvious sign that their meeting was over. "I would like you to schedule a follow-up appointment with me a month from now with the front desk." He looked over at both men sympathetically, who had also stood up to leave. "I wish you both the best," he simply said.

"Come on, Justin," Brian gently prodded his partner; it was obvious they weren't going to learn anything further from Dr. Keller today. He placed a supportive hand on the blond's upper back as they turned to leave. Justin stood there for a few seconds, as if he didn't know what else to do. After all, what was _left_? They had explored every avenue they had, and they were pretty much back at the same place where they had started.

Before he had a chance to fall apart in front of either Brian or the doctor, he took solace and comfort from the warm hand placed at his back and let himself be led from the room in silence. Dr. Keller remained behind his desk as he watched them go, regret over his inability to help Justin uppermost in his mind. For perhaps the first time since he had become a doctor, he felt helpless to provide the assistance this particular man so sorely needed. The only comfort he took in his lack of answers for his patient was the man who remained so faithfully by his side; for he was convinced that if anyone could help Justin beat the odds, it would be Brian Kinney. _I hope you prove me wrong, Justin – for BOTH your sakes_, he thought, before he sat back down to prepare for his next patient.


	41. Chapter 41:  Reality and Hope Collide

**A/N: My dear readers: This is not going to be a happy chapter, I'm afraid...just an friendly warning. Not to fear, though, they WILL get through this. Got to have a few bumps in the road in the meantime. Thanks once more for reading and reviewing!**

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Brian glanced over at his partner whose upper body was turned toward the car's window. They had left the doctor's office in silence, and that silence had continued for the past twenty minutes, only occasionally broken by a soft, plaintive sigh from the blond that almost broke Brian's heart each time he heard it. Brian himself was rendered speechless by his inability to say the right thing to help Justin feel any better, because the truth was for all intents and purposes they had reached the end of their journey as far as seeking medical intervention for Justin's condition. That didn't mean, however, that Brian was giving up.

He couldn't stand this silence any longer. He took his eyes off the road long enough to reach over and tenderly grasp Justin's left hand; Justin still didn't say a word, but he noticed to his relief that after a second or two his partner curled his fingers around his hand forcefully, almost painfully tight as if he were trying to steal some of Brian's strength for himself. _Well, I am strong enough for BOTH of us, Sunshine._

"Hey," Brian whispered softly, finally breaking their silence. He squeezed Justin's hand back. "It's going to be okay…..you'll see." He knew that sounded extremely lame and trite, but he really meant it; he was resolved that no matter what happened or didn't happen, he was going to see this through. He had no choice – he still loved this man with all his heart.

Justin uttered another extremely heart wrenching sigh before he finally turned to face his partner; Brian noticed painfully that Justin's eyes were filled with tears; tears that spoke volumes about the acceptance of a reality he had hoped would never occur. Justin pursed his lips tightly together in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the tears from falling; but it was no use. He felt like his last, best hope had withered away with Dr. Keller's bluntly realistic assessment: at this point in time there was practically no chance Justin would regain his past memories. He swallowed the lump in his throat in an attempt to speak; when he did, it came out as more of a raspy, ragged whisper. "That's it, Brian. There's nowhere else to go from here. I'm never going to get back what I had – what _we_ had." He looked down at his lap as he wiped the stray tears from his face with his free hand; he was too upset to look at the man who had steadfastly stood by him for the past three weeks, and who had encouraged him to keep trying. Now there was no _use _in trying anymore – what he had lost was going to be _permanent_. The only way now that he would know what happened to him before the accident was if someone else _told_ him, or if he happened to be lucky enough at times to dream about it. He wondered if lucky was even the right word, though, because if he DID dream about it, it would only point out to him what he had irretrievably lost.

Brian didn't think his heart could break any more, but at the sound of Justin's desolated tone, he knew that he'd been wrong. Right now he wanted nothing more than to take his partner in his arms and hold him desperately to tell him that somehow, some way, everything would turn out okay. Did he really believe that, though? _Could_ they recapture the magical relationship they had before if Justin couldn't remember what they had meant to each other? Did he have enough strength for both of them to keep trying until somehow they could find what they had lost? If he was honest with himself, he couldn't really be sure. But he DID know he wasn't going to lose this man without one hell of a fight, and he wasn't going to let Justin quit now, not after how far they had come.

He slowly eased the 'Vette over to the side of the road and stopped near the Liberty Diner. If Justin was surprised when Brian turned the motor off, he didn't show it; he simply continued to look down at his lap, his silence only occasionally broken by a soft sniffle as he silently cried for what they had lost.

Brian inwardly cursed the makeup of the 'Vette's interior, because he wanted nothing more right now than to hold Justin in his arms and comfort him. The tight interior of the car's design, however, and the bucket seats prevented him from doing that. Perhaps, though, there was another way to console him. Just like before when they had driven back from Harrisburg and needed to talk, Brian pulled the key out of the ignition, unlatched his seatbelt, and opened the door to get out. He closed it and walked around the front to Justin's side of the car and opened the passenger door. He held out his hand to his partner; Justin at first didn't move or look at him, even though there was no way he couldn't notice him there. He was prepared to stand there anyway until hell froze over if that was how long it took for Justin to respond.

Finally, Justin lifted his head and turned to look up at Brian, who was standing there with his hand outstretched in silent invitation. Justin shook his head slightly; the last thing he wanted to do right now was move from his fairly protected cocoon inside the car, even though he recognized the irony of the situation. Any other time and he would have been thrilled to finally be able to get out and walk among the people and places he should be familiar with; after his visit with Dr. Keller, though, he realized that would just pinpoint with crystal-clear, painful clarity just what he had lost and would never regain again.

Brian sighed silently in frustration. _Help me out here, Sunshine._ "Justin….Get out of the car." His tone was gentle but firm.

Justin shook his head more forcefully. "No, Brian…..I just want to go home." He snorted a little as if he had just told a small joke; how could he ever think of Brian's loft as his _home_ when he couldn't even fucking _remember it? _But right now it was the only place that felt even a little familiar, mainly because it was the only place besides Andrew's that he had stayed in since the accident, if you didn't count the horrid days when he stayed at the hospital. But would he ever really think of it as _home?_ Probably not.

Brian wasn't giving up that easily, however. "We will…_afterward._ Come on." He continued to stand there defiantly. _I can stand here as long as necessary, Sunshine._ "I'm not taking you anywhere in the car until you get out and walk with me," he told him flatly.

Justin huffed out a frustrated, irritated breath as Brian merely continued to stare at him nonplussed. The blond was quickly realizing that his partner could be as stubborn as HE was; Brian had the keys to the car and he was apparently not going to take no for an answer. He glared back at the brunet, who stood fixed to his place on the sidewalk, his hand still extended toward him expectedly.

Brian exhaled a silent breath of relief when Justin _finally_ leaned over to unbuckle his seatbelt and accepted Brian's hand as the brunet tugged him gently out of the car. Brian noticed that Justin didn't protest as he quickly pulled him into his arms and wrapped his hands around his back in a tight clinch; it wasn't quite clear which man was comforting the other the most, because both of them badly needed the strength of each other's embrace at that moment as Justin placed his head on Brian's chest and snuggled into his warm, strong body. Brian heard Justin sigh again, a sound full of longing, loss, and sorrow. He pressed his partner even more into him, almost in a vise-like grip of reassurance and protection as they stood there together for several minutes, oblivious to the throng of people bustling about on the sidewalk in the mid-day crowd. Brian realized he was risking Justin being spotted by someone who knew him, but right then he didn't care; the important thing was to somehow make his partner understand that no matter how bleak things looked at the moment, somehow, some way, things _would get better_. As he luxuriated in the feel of Justin's familiar body clinging to him, a wash of emotions rushed through him as Brian realized that no matter _how_ difficult their life had been lately, no matter HOW weary he might be of constantly trying to help Justin remember what they meant to each other, no matter HOW hard it was, he would _never_ give up. Because he knew that while his life might be a whole lot easier if he didn't have Justin in it, he knew it would be so much _poorer_ without him.

The two eventually broke off their embrace; Brian, however, continued to hold Justin by his upper arms as he peered down into the soft blue eyes that were still moist from his previously shed tears. To Brian's relief, however, he noticed that Justin was no longer weeping; it was as if his crying earlier had provided him with the emotional release he had so badly needed. "You okay?" he asked him softly, the concern evident in his voice. He was thankful that the flow of people rushing by them hadn't paid them much heed; so far no one had seemed to recognize Justin or act like there was anything unusual going on while they scurried about their own business.

Justin exhaled a ragged breath and nodded slowly. "Yeah…..I guess," he answered quietly. "I'm just…..tired, Brian. Tired of all of it."

"I know, Justin," he answered truthfully. "I know you are. But you know what? I don't _care _what Dr. Keller says, or Bradley the wannabe miracle worker says, or anyone _else_ you've seen. I'm _NOT _giving up; not until we've exhausted every possibility. I've been thinking about what you said, especially after we talked to Dr. Keller. He said it would be all right to start exposing you to people and places you should be familiar with, as long as it didn't overwhelm you or overtax you. Maybe it _IS_ time. Like you said, we can't keep you caged up forever away from everyone. I think it's time the world gets reacquainted with Justin Taylor," he declared firmly. He was still scared that Justin might not be able to handle the overwhelming attention his sudden, miraculous return was no doubt going to generate; but he couldn't protect him forever from it, either. That didn't mean that he couldn't stand by his side and help him readjust, though.

Justin peered up into the hazel eyes boring into him so intently; Brian's determined tone of voice and his face showed him that his partner was resolute in trying to help him. But at some point they were going to have to simply face the facts; there wasn't _going _to be fairy-tale ending to _this_ story. He _wasn't_ going to recoup what he had lost. So what was his alternative? Shrivel up and die? Stay forever in some type of twilight zone, never to go back or never to move forward? Obsess about it to the point where he was emotionally crippled? Because despite his desperate hope that he could have regained his past life, he knew he had no choice: he – and Brian – had to _move forward_. They had to take the hands they were dealt and try to move on. Just what that would mean for their relationship, though, had yet to be discovered. He _did_ know Brian was right – it was time to come back out into the light of hopeful familiarity.

"Okay," Justin finally answered slowly, this time with a little more resigned determination in his voice. "I think you're right. It's time I face facts, Brian. As much as I fucking _HATE it_, I'm not going to get back what's gone. That fact's been pounded into my head so much now that even _I _finally get it. So where do we start?" His voice, which would have normally been excited and eager for exploration, was instead simply prepared for the inevitable.

Brian wasn't sure he liked his partner's new outlook or not; his idea hadn't been for Justin to just be resigned to his fate. His goal was to slowly get him exposed to more of his past haunts and friends in hopes that maybe, just maybe, it might light even a small flicker of recognition in him. He thought, however, it was best to perhaps not tell Justin that. If he realized Brian wasn't giving up yet and nothing came of it, it would just spiral him down into more depression and frustration than before.

Instead, he just nodded his head. "Well, the Liberty's Diner just ahead, and you haven't eaten in a while. Let's start by going in and getting some lunch, okay?" As Justin nodded his acceptance, Brian released him and took his hand to slowly meander up the street toward their destination. _This was it_, Brian thought. _The beginning of Justin Taylor, the so-called Miracle Man, back into the limelight_. He only hoped whatever happened, Justin wouldn't be bombarded with attention, or worse yet, Justin would retreat back into the same type of repressed, protective shell he had traveled to after the bashing.

As they passed several bystanders walking in the opposite direction on the busy sidewalk, he noticed with relief that while some were giving the two of them curious, quizzical stares, they still continued by them silently. He was thankful Justin wasn't pointed out or that anyone made a big deal out of his appearance. _So far, so good…. _

As he opened the door of the diner for them to go in, however, his heart began to beat a little faster and he cringed inwardly as noticed Debbie working her shift. _Please, Deb….Don't make a big deal out of this_. He realized that might be like asking the water in Niagara Falls not to flow, but he hoped somehow she would understand the import of this moment.

To his enormous relief, Debbie spotted them right away and a smile lit up her face from ear to ear; but somehow, by some amazing unseen force, she seemed to realize that Brian didn't want their arrival to be announced as if royalty had entered the room. He saw Debbie whisper something hurriedly into Kikki's ear, who was standing nearby, before she put the order pad she was holding down and hurried over to them. He noticed, also, that thankfully, while the diner was busy, it wasn't as packed as it might have been for this time of day; there were several booths and a few counter stools still empty.

Debbie smiled broadly and her eyes were shining with happiness as she rushed up to Justin and Brian. "Sunshine," she murmured affectionately as she placed her hands gently on his upper arms and reached up to give him a small, lipstick-stained kiss on his cheek. "I'm _so_ glad to see you here," she whispered.

Justin couldn't help smiling back at her a little; there was just something about this affectionate, over-the-top mother hen that he liked, despite not really remembering her from before the accident. "Hi, Debbie," he softly responded a little awkwardly.

Debbie beamed at the mention of her name, as if that were some miracle in and of itself. She just couldn't quite believe that the young man she had grown to love as a son was here in front of her, alive. She turned her gaze to look at Brian, whose arm was draped protectively around Justin's waist. Her heart warmed at the thought of Brian's never-ending support for this amazing man, as well as her gratitude that this other "surrogate son" of hers hadn't lost the only person he had dared surrender his heart and soul to. "Brian," she greeted him fondly. "How _are_ you?"

Any other time Brian would have automatically responded with a trite comment of "I'm just _fabuloso_, Deb," but somehow he didn't feel like pretending to her at the moment. Instead, he simply answered, "I'm okay, Deb."

She nodded her understanding, a little surprised by his casual honesty. His sincere response was so unlike him, but then again, what he had been through the past three weeks was nothing like he had ever experienced before. She reached up to hug the brunet's neck and ruffle his hair affectionately. "You'll _both_ be okay," she declared firmly in a surprisingly soft tone of voice as she whispered in his ear, "as long as you have each other; that's what's most important."

"Hey, Deb, order's up!" she heard the cook yell. "Shit," she muttered, as she peered over her shoulder regretfully. "I've got to get back. Why don't you two take a seat and I'll be over as soon as I can?" she suggested.

Brian nodded his understanding and took a quick glance around the room; thankfully no one seemed to notice that a living, breathing miracle had just walked into the diner. He took Justin's hand firmly and pulled him toward a booth located near the back that was away from the main crowd of diners at the front of the restaurant.

Several seconds later, Brian looked up from their seat to see Carl Horvath coming in to greet his girlfriend. As the older man took his customary place at the counter, he noticed Debbie rushing over to greet him; he couldn't hear what she saying, but he observed Carl turn around to look at them, so it was obvious he and Justin was the subject of their conversation. A few seconds later, the detective rose from his seat and approached their booth. "Well, Debbie had told me, but I couldn't quite believe it until now," he stated, shaking his head and smiling. As Brian motioned for him to sit next to him, he looked over at Justin, adding, "You don't know how glad I am to see you – Debbie was like a zombie walking around until she heard you were alive. Up until then, I used to think it might be nice from time to time to see her a little more subdued, but I changed my mind after seeing her reaction to your "death." She really missed you, son," he disclosed.

Justin assumed this had to be Carl Horvath, Debbie's live-in boyfriend that Brian had told him about. His face flushed a little at the lavish attention, and at the thought of how his "death" had apparently affected so many people that knew him. Had his life had that much of an impact on so many others? Brian had tried to tell him so, but he had still found it hard to believe; perhaps, though, he had had more of an influence on the others than he had allowed himself to believe.

Both Brian and Justin were grateful that Carl was speaking to them quietly; neither one of them was trying to hide Justin from view, but at the same time, neither man really wanted untold attention being drawn to them, either. "Debbie tells me you wound up with some memory loss as a result of the accident," Carl mentioned.

Justin huffed a little. "Yeah…..You could _say_ that."

Carl looked at him, wondering a little at the caustic tone of voice in Justin's statement.

"What he's _trying_ to say, Carl, is that he suffered _total_ memory loss of his life before the accident due to his injuries. Right now he only remembers small bits and pieces having to do with his life before the accident occurred." Brian almost hated to tell Carl about Justin's condition out loud, because each time it was mentioned anew it just seemed to evoke even more fresh pain. He glanced over at Justin, who simply shook his head slightly to reassure him that it was all right – he had heard it all before by now.

Carl looked across the table at Justin sympathetically. "I'm sorry, son," he whispered. "That must be really tough."

Justin nodded as Brian watched him intently. _You don't know the HALF of it._ An audible breath escaped his lips. "Yeah," he whispered. "It's been hard." _Fucking hard._ _The HARDEST thing I've ever had to live through._ He snorted a little – _at least the hardest thing I can REMEMBER going through, anyway._

Carl nodded understandingly. "Well…..for what it's worth, Justin, we're glad you survived that accident somehow. If there's anything Debbie or I can do…"

Justin shook his head slightly. "Thanks. But everything that can be done is being done." _If only there was something ELSE that could be done….._He suddenly felt like some terminally-ill patient being cared for until he wasted away and died. In a way, he somehow felt like that.

Debbie walked up to the trio to stand next to Carl. She placed her hand on his shoulder to give it a squeeze as she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. She smiled over at Justin as she spoke to the detective. "Isn't it _wonderful_, Honey?" She shook her head, still in disbelief that her "Sunshine" was sitting there in the flesh, so much like he had done so often before.

Justin tried to return her smile, but after the events earlier today, his heart just wasn't in it. Debbie's own smile faded somewhat as she noticed the blond's look of sadness on his beautiful face. She had seen that look before – after he and Brian had broken up and Ethan had cheated on him. Now he and Brian were together again, but he was wearing the same look of sorrow as before. How she longed to be able to do something to see his trademark, beaming smile again. She knew that today would not be the day, however. She was dying to know the reason for his unhappiness, but she wisely refrained from calling him out on it. "What can I get for you boys?" she asked instead, pasting a look of casual interest on her face. "Honey?"

"I'll just have some coffee and the open face roast beef sandwich," Carl told her.

She looked over at Brian questioningly. "Uh….just some water and a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, lettuce and tomato," Brian told her.

All eyes were on Justin as he pondered his choices; truthfully, his stomach was still churning from their previous meeting with Dr. Keller and he was uncharacteristically having a hard time even focusing on eating. But his stomach was also growling a little in response to not having eaten for several hours. He realized that Debbie hadn't brought over any menus and he had no _clue_ what was served here specifically; obviously Carl and Brian _did_, however. He looked over a little helplessly at Brian; even _ordering_ something from this place was an ordeal.

Brian must have picked up on his discomfort, because he looked up at Debbie and answered in a deliberately casual voice, "Uh….just bring Justin a cheeseburger, onion rings, and a chocolate shake," he told her, as she nodded silently and turned to take their request over to the order window.

Carl perceptively realized the two boys would prefer to be alone. "I think I'll go keep Debbie company at the counter," he told the couple, as he slid out from behind the booth's table and stood up. "It was good to see you again, Justin," he told the blond. "Take care and remember (he winced a little at his choice of words)…..let Debbie and I know if we can do anything."

Justin nodded mutely as he watched the detective walk away toward one of the nearby counter stools.

"I feel like some _fucking invalid_, Brian," he retorted quietly, not trying to disguise the bitterness in his voice. "_If you need anything, Justin…..If we can HELP, Justin,"_ he parodied. "Can they help get my MEMORY back? Can they help me remember what I LOST? Can they keep me from feeling like all of my previous life has been a big, fat, fucking _waste of TIME?"_

Brian winced at the sharp pain in his partner's voice; he knew he was speaking out of frustration and anger, but he still felt like he was losing him – losing what they had _had_, and he feared they just might never get it back. He started to open his mouth to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound like he was trying to patronize him so he remained silent as he saw Justin close his eyes, his face contorted in pain. He watched in concern as Justin suddenly slid out then from the booth and stood up.

"I….I can't _stay here," _he abruptly announced. "I have to get out of this place." He felt like all the events of the last three weeks were closing in on him like some vast weight settling on his shoulders, and he just didn't want to deal with it anymore.

Brian quickly slid over to the end of the seat and stood up, alarmed; he wasn't about to let Justin walk out of there alone. He tried furiously to placate his partner as he said, "Okay…we'll get the food to go."

"No, Brian," Justin corrected him. "I need to be _alone_."

Brian reached out to grasp Justin's arm as the blond pulled away. "NO," he repeated a little louder this time. "I may not remember, but I'm not a _fucking cripple_. I need to be by _myself_."

Brian tried hard to disguise the hurt he felt at Justin's insistence in being alone. He thought by now that Justin had at least accepted the fact that they were partners and needed to work through this together. He had just agreed, in fact, that Justin should be exposed to more of his previous life, and now he _wanted to be ALONE?_! "Justin….." he began.

But Justin was adamant. He held his hands out in front of him as if he were warding off an intruder. He wasn't trying to hurt Brian – he had been _SO _loving and supportive of him – but the guilt, pain, and grief he felt right now over what he had lost was just too much. "I _mean_ it, Brian. Please….Just let me have some space for a while." He shook his head as the tears began to well up again in his eyes. "I…appreciate everything you've done. It's _not_ you. I…just need some time alone."

Brian stood there helplessly; he thought it a horrible idea for Justin to just walk out of there on his own. How would he handle it if he were recognized? He knew how horrible the media could be when they latched onto their latest hot news story; they wouldn't leave him alone. He was in a fragile enough state right now as it _was_; what would be his reaction if he was recognized and the media began to hound him for a comment or an interview with the _Miracle Man of Pittsburgh?_ He couldn't _force_ Justin to stay with him, though, just as he couldn't force him to accept his company if he didn't want it.

He was fortunately temporarily spared the worry over what would happen to his partner when Michael inexplicably appeared from seemingly out of nowhere; he had been so absorbed in trying to keep Justin with him that he hadn't even noticed when his best friend had entered the diner. "Justin," Michael greeted the blond warmly; despite their past differences, over time they had actually grown to be friends. They would never have the close bond that he shared with Brian, but they had eventually developed a good relationship out of mutual respect and their love of Brian, although both manifested that emotion in uniquely different ways. "It's good to see you out," Michael commented. He had intentionally approached them when he did after overhearing part of their conversation; it was obvious that Brian wasn't happy at all with Justin's suggestion that he wanted to be alone.

Brain winced at the patronizing statement; Michael couldn't really know that that type of comment would be a particularly sore subject for his partner. He soon found out he was right when Justin answered somewhat sarcastically, "Yeah….they let me out for air every once in a while if I've been good." He tried to push by Michael with the intention of leaving just as Carl came up to them and said, "I asked Debbie to wrap up my sandwich to go because I'm running late." He turned to Justin and asked, "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

Brian looked suspiciously over at his best friend, somehow knowing all this was more than just a lucky coincidence. Michael must know somehow that Justin was trying to leave on his own and had created a good alternative to letting him leave without him; if Justin wouldn't let HIM go with him, maybe he would at least allow _Horvath_ to drive him somewhere. He silently prayed that he would.

Justin pondered the offer. He had to admit it – he really didn't know WHAT he wanted; he only knew he needed some time _alone_, some breathing space. Ever since he had gotten back to Pittsburgh, Brian, his mother, and the rest of his friends hadn't left him alone at _all_. And while he appreciated their concern, he was starting to feel totally _smothered_. At the same time, he knew Brian was worried about him. Besides, right now he didn't even know his way around the _block, _much less Pittsburgh. _Quit being a selfish prick, Taylor_.

"Yeah…..Okay," he decided finally to Brian's great relief. He knew Brian wasn't happy about his wish to be alone; perhaps he could at least compromise here. He could maybe be alone with his thoughts for a while and still make Brian not quite happy, but at least reassured. "You could drop me off at Brian's loft if you don't mind."

Carl nodded. "Sure thing," he agreed. He looked over at Brian somewhat awkwardly. "Uh….I'll be right outside," he informed them, as he turned to head toward the door. Brian saw Debbie watching the whole melodrama taking place by the counter as a curious, but thankfully _silent_ bystander.

Brian knew his partner wasn't going to be persuaded not to leave, but at least he was thankful Justin wasn't leaving alone and he had decided to return to the loft. Perhaps it would do his partner some good to have some time to himself, as much as he hated it. He somewhat hesitantly dug in his pocket and retrieved the key to his loft. "Here," he told Justin softly, holding it out to the blond.

Justin gently took the key from Brian's outstretched hand; Brian's fingers lingered on his for a few seconds as if he hated to break their connection before he reluctantly let go. Justin nodded at the two men before he turned and walked purposely out the door to meet Carl for his ride.

Brian stood there, watching him go, his emotions a jumble of bewilderment, hurt, and concern. "Brian," he heard Michael calling him softly. "Let's sit down and talk."

Brian looked at his friend for a few seconds before he sighed and sat back down in the booth. He placed his head in his hands and rubbed his face before he looked over at Michael, who was silently scrutinizing him from the opposite seat. "I…..I don't know to do," he admitted to his friend softly, his voice a reflection of defeat. "I don't know what else to do to help him."

Michael's heart broke for his friend; he knew how much Brian loved this man, and how much it would cost him to give up on their relationship. He _also_ knew that if Justin could only recall their past, he would also fight to keep it alive _at all costs_. But sadly that was the problem – he _didn't_ remember. And it seemed that Brian was fighting a one-hill battle by himself. As much as Michael wanted to help alleviate his worry and pain, he couldn't make Justin love him again.

"We went to see his old neurologist today," Brian continued in explanation. "He pretty much told Justin what everyone else has said – that in cases like his, the odds of him regaining his past memories are practically nil." He looked over at Michael and shook his head. "He was pretty much his last hope, and now he's _giving up_, Michael. He's fucking _giving up_…on everything." _On US._

"There must be _something_, Brian. Counseling? Hypnosis? Medication?"

Brian shook his head. "He could probably use counseling just to deal with the reality, but the doctor said unless the memory loss was triggered by some type of emotional trauma, hypnosis wouldn't help. And they don't make medication that you can take to make your memory just magically reappear."

Michael frowned. "But you told me had HAD remembered _some _information….."

Brian nodded. "Yeah…..A little, mainly through some of his dreams. Although he DOES occasionally think of things that happened in the past when something else seems to trigger it. The doctor DID say that that was unusual in cases of retrograde amnesia. He couldn't explain it; he only said that there were always exceptions to the rule. Justin's getting pretty fucking tired of the same old rhetoric, though. Hell, so am _I._"

"I know," Michael replied sympathetically; he reached over to place his hand comfortingly over his friend's. "I wish there was some way I could help you," he said sincerely; he knew in this case, however, there wasn't much he could to help his situation, except offer moral support.

Brian squeezed his friend's hand gratefully before releasing it. "I know you do, Mikey," he said softly. "It's just something Justin and I will have to try and work out together." He sighed. "I only wished I knew how to DO that."

Debbie softly walked up to her "two boys," carrying a small white paper bag along with Brian's turkey sandwich. "Carl just called me," she informed Brian, as she placed his order in front of him. "He just wanted me to pass along to you that he just dropped off Justin at the loft and watched him go in."

Brian nodded in relief. "Thanks, Deb," he told her.

Debbie placed a hand on his shoulder. "He just needs some time alone, Honey," she told him matter-of-factly.

"I wish it were that simple," Brian told her. It wasn't as if Justin could go off by himself and re-emerge later, suddenly recalling his past life.

She looked at him sadly, clearing recognizing that Justin's condition hadn't just affected Sunshine; it had deeply affected Brian as well. "I know," she told him. She held out the paper bag she had been carrying in front of the brunet. "Here…..my old standby solution for anything that ails you."

Brian smirked and smiled wistfully. "Lemon bars? I'm afraid that might not work in this case."

"Yeah, probably not," she conceded. "But take them anyway. I worry you're not eating enough lately." She had noticed that while Brian's haunted, gaunt look of before had thankfully disappeared, he still looked almost painfully thin.

Brian peered up at her fondly; this sometimes brassy (okay, _normally_ brassy), sometimes downright _bossy_ woman was the nearest to a mother he would ever have – she was exponentially more than a mother to him than his ice-queen _biological mother_ would EVER be. At that moment, he was thankful for her as well as her son's constant support of him. Without that, and the love of his son, he wasn't sure _how_ he would be able to get through all this.

He took a couple bites of his sandwich and hastily placed it inside the bag with the lemon bars. He knew he wouldn't really be able to eat while he was worried about Justin. He anxiously wanted to run back to the loft and see how he was doing, but Justin had said he needed some time alone; as much as it pained him not to make sure he was okay at the moment, he thought he'd grudgingly honor his wishes and take a sort side trip by Kinnetik to check on how things were going there before he drove on home. That way, he could put out any unexpected fires at work and also provide Justin with the space he seemed to be craving at the moment.

"I'd better get going," he decided, standing up. "I need to run by Kinnetik to make sure Theodore's not running my company into the ground." He reached over and gave Debbie a slight hug and a small kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Deb," he told her softly as she smiled and nodded at him.

"Tell Sunshine we're here for him," she told him sincerely. "You, too."

He nodded and turned toward Michael. "Later, Mikey," was all he said; he really didn't want to discuss his urgent need to leave and head back toward the loft. Besides, these two knew him well enough by now to know that his excuse for leaving the diner right now to go to Kinnetik was merely that – _an excuse_. Both of them knew the _real_ reason why he felt such a pressing need to leave at the moment.

"Call me," Michael told him simply, nodding that he understood why Brian had to leave. Brian nodded in acknowledgment that he would before placing a generous amount of money on the table for his meal and tip and heading toward the door.

As mother and son watched him exit, Debbie looked down at her child and sighed sadly. "I'm worried about him, Michael," she said. "Actually, I'm worried about _both of them_."

Michael returned her gaze, lines of worry creasing his forehead as well. "Yeah, Ma, me too." He huffed out a breath. "But the reality is, there's really _nothing_ we can do for them, except be here as a sounding board. This is something the two of them are going to have to work out together."

"But that's just it, Michael," Debbie insisted. "Before Justin, there never _was_ a _together_ when it came to Brian. He never let anyone touch his heart the way that Justin has. I'm afraid if they never get back to the way they were, Brian never _will_ allow himself to love again – not like this. Those two are soul mates. You don't find what they have – what they _had_," she corrected herself painfully, "everyday. Hell, not in a fucking _lifetime_ for MOST people. I actually think _Justin_ would be able to cope better with that eventuality, if it happens, than _Brian _would."

Michael stared at her thoughtfully. "Yeah. I'm afraid you're probably right," he said softly. "I guess we'll just have to be there to catch him if he falls."

* * *

_Brian's Loft_

Justin sat on the couch, peering out at the scene below. He wasn't really paying attention to anything going on outside; he was merely trying to preoccupy his mind somehow, which was churning furiously with the events of today. So many emotions were running through him right now, none of them very uplifting: sadness, frustration, grief over his loss, even downright _anger_ over why this had to have happened to him. Yes, it was selfish. Yes, it was counterproductive. And yes, it wasn't helping his situation any. But he just couldn't help it.

He had long ago cried himself void of any more tears; right now, he just felt _lost_,empty, like he was afloat in a world that he didn't belong in. A world that kept going about its business as if it was just another typical day in Pittsburgh. For most people, it _was_. Their lives went on just like they did before. Only all these other people had the benefit of their past experiences to draw upon. Except for a few snatches and glimpses of his previous life, however, he had _nothing_. Perhaps some would consider that a gift; they could forget any unfortunate or regretted circumstances that occurred before and move on fresh, anew. But he had glimpsed enough of his past life, through Brian, his family, and friends, to know that he _wanted_ to know about his past, damn it, and he also _knew _now that he wasn't destined ever to retrieve it.

He closed his eyes and thought about Brian. God, how terrible he felt about his partner. The man who had stayed by his side virtually nonstop since he had found him in Harrisburg. How long would Brian be willing to put up with their current situation before he just washed his hands of the whole, complicated affair? Could he truly expect this successful, beautiful, undoubtedly much-sought-after man to stay with him, now that he was destined to remain a broken shell of his former self forever? No sensible person could expect that. Perhaps it was better that they just break it off _now, _before the wounds had time to fester even more, before it got even _MORE_ painful. Before one of them felt like they had to stay together out of obligation or pity. That was no way to live – no way to maintain a healthy, strong relationship. Brian had continually reassured him that he loved him and wasn't going anywhere; but was that _fair_ to him? Was this the way he was going to repay him for what he had done? He stood up and wrapped his arms around himself. Sighing, he turned to look around Brian's loft. It still didn't seem any more familiar than the way it had felt the first day he arrived here a couple of weeks ago. Yes, he was now familiar with where most items were located in his partner's space – he knew where he kept his plates, his silverware, his watch, his toothbrush, and his clothes. But where were the _memories?_ Where were THEY kept? From what Dr. Keller had told them today, they simply had vanished as far as Justin was concerned. The simple, painfully honest answer was that they weren't kept _ANYWHERE_ anymore.

* * *

_An Hour Later – Brian's Loft_

Brian impatiently waited for the elevator to emerge on his floor. He had stopped in Kinnetik for a short while just to make sure things were running smoothly. He had been relieved to find out from Cynthia that thanks in large part to the art department's mockups for Boardman, the meeting overseen by her and Ted had went well and the client's president who had attended was happy with the newest advertising campaign developed for them. He silently thanked his two employees for keeping his business afloat so adeptly while he had had to take a considerable amount of time off to take care of Justin; he made himself a mental note to reward them accordingly by giving them both substantial raises when he was able to return on a more full-time basis. For now, however, the most important matter was returning to the loft to make sure that Justin was all right.

As the lift opened, he hurried over to the heavy metal door and swung it open as soon as the key had engaged. He could detect no discernable sound coming from inside as he called out, "Justin?" He looked over at the couch where his partner seemed to reside so much lately in contemplative thought and was concerned to see that he wasn't there.

A quick tour of the bedroom and bathroom produced the same result. _Where WAS he?_ He was about to snatch his cell phone off the kitchen counter to start making calls to hopefully track him down when he spied a white piece of paper tacked to the refrigerator by a small, round magnet. His heart dropped into his chest as he immediately recognized Justin's elaborate, curvy handwriting. Rushing over to pull the note off the appliance, he stood there in dismay as he read what he had wrote:

_Brian _

_I have decided to go stay with my mom at least for a while. Please understand – I can never repay you enough for what you've done for me, and I will be forever grateful to you. But I do not want to be a burden to you or drag you down with me. You deserve someone who can love you the way you love me. The best thing I can do for you, then, is to let you go. Don't worry about me – I will be okay. I will never forget you. _

_Justin_

Brian stood there, stunned; it was as if Justin had just died all over again. No, he corrected himself. This time it was if HE had died, at least in his heart. Until that moment, he had actually wondered if he could ever be capable of truly loving someone the way that everyone else seemed to. But right then, he realized how wrong he had been, because his heart felt like a vise had grabbed ahold of it and was squeezing it violently as it was breaking in two. As he reread Justin's note again, the sudden feeling of loss overwhelmed him as he sunk to the ground on his knees and cried.


	42. Chapter 42:  The Pains of Separation

_Tuesday Morning – Jennifer's Condo_

Jennifer softly opened the guestroom door just a crack to peer at her son; after she had heard him rustling around the room that was directly above hers last night, she was relieved to find that her son had finally fallen asleep. From the looks of the crumpled sheet and blanket, however, it appeared his body had fought the idea of rest for some time; his body was virtually wrapped up in the material so tightly that he resembled a mummy presently. Her son was lying on his back, his mouth slightly open as he breathed quietly. She sighed softly; at least while Justin was sleeping, he looked relatively calm and at peace.

Last night, however, had been a different story. Her son had shown up alone at her doorstep in late afternoon, the tears he had shed earlier still apparent on his beautiful but sad face. She had been surprised to see him, but one look at the desolate expression on his face and she had silently pulled him tightly into her arms and let his tears fall anew. She had continued to hold him for several minutes until his soft cries had subsided and his breathing had returned to more of a semblance of normalcy before she gently led him over to her couch to wait for him to explain his sudden appearance at her condo.

In between ragged, halting breaths, he had eventually managed to tell her about his and Brian's visit to Dr. Keller and what the neurologist had told them. Then he had described how he had persuaded Brian to give him some time alone at the loft, where he had made the heartbreaking decision to leave.

As she sat down on the couch to consider what her son had told her, she couldn't help thinking that he was making a mistake. She knew Justin was terribly confused and disoriented over what had happened to him, and she could tell how guilty he felt about not being able to reciprocate Brian's feelings toward him. She was always glad to help her son in any she could – that would never change, and she had felt relieved that he was comfortable enough to seek her out last night. But she couldn't help thinking he belonged with _Brian_, that only HE could make things right again. Did she really have the right, though, to tell her son that? After all, to Justin she was still a relative stranger; and even if he DID remember her, when it came down to it, it was still Justin's decision to make as to whom he wanted to be with.

As she quietly closed the door and walked back down toward the living room, she considered how this must be affecting Brian. The man was overwhelmed with grief when he had thought Justin had died; if there had ever been any question as to how he had felt about her son, his reaction to his partner's "death" would have banished any doubts in the worst skeptic. What reservations she might have had regarding the older man's intentions toward her son had long ago been swept away, anyhow, as she had observed the way he watched over and cared for Justin; she had realized a long time ago that Brian deeply loved him. She had witnessed such a dramatic change in Brian after he had discovered Justin was alive; the haunted, lost, bleak and hopeless visage he had worn after the accident had been replaced with a spark of hope and optimism. Justin's actions last night, however, must have swept that all away in an instant. She imagined that her son was not the only one who had experienced a sleepless night last night; she had no doubts that Brian was undergoing his own type of tortured pain at the moment in addition to her son.

She shook her head; it was times like these that she thought perhaps it might have been best if she had raised a son with more of a thick shell and an apathetic nature. Instead, she had managed to groom a young man who was too compassionate, sensitive and caring sometimes for his own good, not to mention stubborn with an independent streak. She knew Brian desperately wanted to help her son, for _both_ of their sakes; if only her son would be patient and let _Brian_ decide when he had had enough. Instead, Justin's nobility had gotten in the way and now here he was, with her but not necessarily where he _belonged_.

She heard a soft knock on her front door; glancing up the stairs to make sure Justin was still apparently asleep, she quietly hurried over to the door to open it. She wasn't surprised in the least to see that it was Brian; the only thing that surprised her was that he had managed to wait until _morning_ to show up.

She noticed with concern that Brian hadn't appeared to have slept at _all_ last night; his hair was mussed, he had uncharacteristic dark rings around his eyes and his clothes were actually wrinkled; typically on a work day, especially, the brunet would be dressed and groomed impeccably. "Brian," she murmured sympathetically. One look at the profound sadness in his eyes and she had to pull him into her arms for a hug; she heard him huff out a ragged breath of air as his own arms slowly wrapped themselves around her back in return. They stood that way for several seconds before they mutually broke off their embrace. "Come in," Jennifer softly instructed him; he appeared to hesitate for a few seconds as he looked around the living room, obviously searching for his partner, before he followed Jennifer over to the nearby couch. She noticed he had brought with him a large, black duffle bag and a flat art portfolio which he placed by the side of the couch.

"Can I get you some coffee?" she asked him, as she began to get up to fetch it.

"No, Jennifer," Brian responded quietly. "Thanks, but no. I've had too many cups this morning all ready." She watched Brian look around the room again.

"He's…upstairs in the guest room," she volunteered in answer to his unspoken question. "I don't think he got to sleep actually until a little while ago. I just checked on him a few minutes ago, though, and he was asleep then."

Brian looked down at his lap before he glanced over at her. Justin had to have told her _something_ when he had arrived yesterday evening, but just how much had he confided in this woman who still only held the title of _mom_ in name only? "How _is_ he?" he asked her quietly.

Her eyes softened at his plaintive tone. "He's upset," she said simply. "He told me about your visit with Dr. Keller and how he didn't give him much encouragement that anything would change for the better. And he told me how guilty he felt about not being able to feel the same way about you that you feel about _him_." She sighed in frustration. "I am _so_ sorry, Brian. I know Justin feels terrible and thinks he's somehow taking advantage of you, but honestly? I think he's making a big mistake just giving up like this." She laughed softly. "I never thought I would say this when the two of you first met, but he belongs with _you_. He's letting his nobility get in the way. My son has always been such a fighter, and for some reason when it comes to the most important thing in his life now, he's just _giving up_. What is _wrong with him?"_

Brian reached over to take her hand as he briefly gave it a squeeze before letting it go. "Don't be so hard on him, Jennifer. I think he's just _scared_. Scared of what he might never have again, and scared that he'll hurt me even more than he feels he _already_ has." He snorted ironically. "What he doesn't realize is that I can't be hurt much more than I fucking hurt _already_, because he's not with ME." He rubbed his hands over his face. "How can I make him understand that I want to be with him, no matter what? Yeah, I want him to remember how we used to be – and yeah, I fucking _miss _it. I miss the closeness, the bond…..the love," he added softly, almost in embarrassment. "And, yeah, I'm _tired_, too, just like him. It's _hard work_ rebuilding what we used to have. But we've got to _try_! How else will we ever know if we can be successful if he just _gives up_? Jennifer, you have to help me make him understand that I don't want to be with him out of obligation – I want to be with him because I fucking LOVE him!" He shook his head in disbelief that his previously persistent, stubborn, never-give-up partner could be doing just that – throwing his hands up in virtual surrender. Had Justin's accident changed him _that_ much? He still could draw, he still was the same sensitive, sweet, compassionate person he had always been – could his determination, his will to carry on in extreme adversity have really changed that much? Brian just couldn't believe that was the case; now all he had to do was convince his _partner_ of that. He stood up and began to pace in short strides in front of the couch; his sleepless night had somehow imbued him with a sort of restless energy that made it hard to him to sit still for long.

"Brian, I _agree_ with you," Jennifer assured him. "Maybe he was just being impulsive when he decided to leave last night; maybe he just needs some time alone to think, to decide what he wants to do from here. He's so _young_ – he's got his whole life ahead of him. But he's going to have to figure out how to move on with the reality that he's got, not the life he _wishes_ he still had."

"You mean without _me." _Brian phrased it as a statement, not a question, because apparently Justin had already decided that noble cause notwithstanding, he was best being alone – _without HIM_.

"No, that's not what I mean at ALL," Jennifer insisted, as she stood up and walked over to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders to try and get him to be still long enough to listen to what she was trying to say. "Listen to me, okay?" She waited until Brian raised his head finally to meet her gaze and nodded. "I don't mean that he will decide to go it _alone_ – but if he doesn't ever get his past memories back, he'll have to move on with what he has retained only since the accident. That doesn't mean he won't want you in his life still. The two of you might, unfortunately though, have to become familiar with each other all over again." At his look of dismay, she hastily tried to add, "That might not necessarily be a _bad_ thing, Brian. Just think of all the mistakes the two of you made in the past that you could work on correcting _now_." She had meant for her statement to come out as a teasing remark, but she found that there was a kernel of truth to it; perhaps if Brian felt he had to prove his love to Justin all over again, maybe he would learn to be more upfront and just a little more outspoken about his feelings. Although she knew her son shared part of the blame for their sometimes rocky relationship in the past, it had still been Brian's reluctance to tell Justin how he really felt about him that had helped push her son away in the first place when he had left with Ethan temporarily in a quest to find what he already HAD; it just hadn't known it at the time.

What Jennifer didn't know, however, was that Brian had begun to do just that once he had been reunited with his partner; he had been trying hard to not only show Justin how he felt, but _TELL _him, also; unfortunately, it hadn't appeared to be enough to keep them together.

Jennifer stared sympathetically at this man who still loved her son deeply, and was clearly distraught over the two of them being apart; it was obvious that Brian had hardly slept last night, not only in his dress but also the exhaustion in his voice. At least her son and Brian had _that_ in common at the moment. "Brian," she whispered softly as he reached up to lightly caress his cheek. "Why don't you go back home and try to get some rest?" she suggested. "I think you _both_ could use some of that right now." As she noticed him opening his mouth, no doubt to protest, she assured him, "I promise I will keep an eye on him while he's here. I can work at home most of the time except for an occasional showing."

Brian wasn't sure he _liked_ that answer; deep down what he had been hoping for was to come over here and get a chance to _talk_ with Justin, perhaps even convince him to come back _home_; because to him, his loft was just a cold, foreboding place without his partner in it. That was the main reason why he couldn't go back there after he had thought that Justin had died; it held way too many memories of the two of them together. Finding himself alone again in that space last night after Justin had left had brought back all those horrible memories of before, and it was all he could do to stay there without his partner. And there had been no fucking way he could sleep in their _bed_; not without feeling that warm, familiar, sweet body lying spooned up so perfectly against him. He had sat on the couch last night after finding Justin's note, his body literally aching for his partner's touch, for the sound of his gentle voice, for those blue eyes that could always say so much with one intense look. All he heard or saw, however, was the harsh light of Pittsburgh's skyline at night and the cacophonous sounds of an occasional siren blaring below. And now Jennifer wanted him to just go home and try to _rest_? If the situation hadn't been so bleak looking at the moment, he would have almost found her well-meaning statement funny. He definitely didn't feel like laughing right now, however. "Jennifer….." he tried one more time to make her understand. "I need to talk to him." _Talk to him, hold him, convince him I love him and will go ON loving him until I no longer have any breath left in me. _Brian was a proud man, but that did not stop him from whatever he needed to do to see his partner. "Please….." He knew he sounded desperate, but damn it, he _was_. He could feel Justin slipping away from him, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute like the sands in an hourglass; and the prospect of that filled him with an insurmountable amount of pain and grief, almost as if Justin really HAD died that day.

Jennifer hesitated at the sound of distress in Brian's voice; she was torn between her son's request for space and some much needed rest versus this man's desire to see her son and talk to him, even touch him. She knew how devastated Brian had been when he had thought Justin had died; could she handle disappointing him yet again by keeping him away from her son? She almost caved in as she looked at the urgent look of longing in his face; but she had to protect her son's health and honor his wishes, which he had made clear last night. He had adamantly told her that he needed to be _alone_ to think, to consider what his next step should be. He had made her promise that if Brian happened to come over – which he told her he had no doubt that he _would_ – she should politely but firmly turn him away until he had time to think about what he needed to do. He had told her it was time to face facts and decide what he should do with the rest of his life, and that he couldn't keep leaning on Brian for support. He had also told her he could not deal with Brian feeling like he had to stay with him out of a sense of obligation, although she doubted that was the real reason why Brian wanted Justin to stay with him. Simply put, this man _loved_ her son and couldn't consider a life _without_ him. She let out a sigh; when did her son's relationship with the man he had adored for so long get so _complicated?_ And when would the two of them be able to be truly happy together without this latest chapter of melodrama interfering with their lives?

"Brian," she whispered fondly; she had eventually grown to love this man just like he WAS her son-in-law; it didn't matter anymore if he and Justin had an official paper saying _married_ or not. "I'm _sorry_, really I am, but Justin made it clear he wants some time alone, and I promised to honor his wishes. He just needs a few days to think things through and decide what to do from here." She pressed on as Brian gave her a look clearly broadcasting that he found that possibility completely unacceptable; his need to see her son was almost palpable in its intensity. She wouldn't back down, though; call it a mother's protective instinct, regret over not spending enough time with Justin before, or her hope of re-establishing her bond with her son – she really didn't know _what_ it was. She only knew he had asked her for this one wish, and she was going to obey it, despite the fact that she didn't necessarily _agree_ with it.

Brian huffed out a sound of frustration; he _could_ just push by her and walk up the steps to Justin's room to _demand_ he talk to him and get this whole ridiculous situation straightened out. However, he somehow knew this would make things worse; when Justin was stubborn and Brian pushed him on his feelings, it _always_ made Justin push back _harder_. He had a good idea this would not be an exception, lost memory or not. He nervously pushed back a lock of errant hair out of his eyes and bit his lip, trying to gauge what his next move should be.

He sighed in resignation finally as Jennifer gazed back at him intently, not entirely immune to his indecision; she had to know this wasn't sitting well with him, but he _also_ knew like a lioness defending her cub, she wasn't going to back down. "Okay, Jennifer," he eventually agreed. "We'll play by _your son's_ rules for now. But you tell him that just because he doesn't want to talk to me right now DOESN'T mean I'm giving up on us. That is NOT going to happen." He glanced up the stairs one more time, hoping in some way that Justin would miraculously appear right now at the landing to tell him he had changed his mind, that he wanted to see him and even better, go back home with him; he was not surprised but disappointed nonetheless to see that no one was there.

Jennifer grasped one of his hands as she leaned up to hug this man who had changed so much since he and her son had first met. Had he _really_ changed, though? She thought perhaps he had _always_ cared about and even loved his friends before – he had just had a difficult time _showing _it and admitting to it. What Justin had done, though, was something _beyond _that – he had shown Brian Kinney was it felt like to be _in_ _love_; now there was a chance that the special relationship the two of them had forged so strongly might be in jeopardy. She somehow had to help ensure that didn't happen.

"I won't give up on you two, either," Jennifer whispered softly in his ear, "I _promise_, Brian."

As the two broke their embrace, Brian looked down at her, his eyes softening a little in affection for this lady who had come to accept him as a member of her own family. He pondered how their relationship had changed over the years, from wary combatants to a deep respect, admiration and even _love_ for each other. Of course, the one element that had helped create this stronger relationship was the one part that was presently broken; he vowed, though, partly with Jennifer's support, to _change _that.

He nodded at her and smiled sadly. He walked over a few feet to pick up the duffle bag and art portfolio he had retrieved from the loft; he knew that Justin wouldn't have remembered to pack any additional clothes in his haste to leave, and he figured his partner no longer kept any art supplies at Jennifer's condo. If Justin was determined to be alone for a few days, he could at least make the time for him _easier_ hopefully. Also, he knew what Justin normally gravitated to in times of stress or pain – his art. He knew that Justin would need that to rely on right now. He only hoped that when his partner's self-imposed period of reflection was over, he would make the _right_ decision – the ONLY decision in Brian's mind: to come back to him and work toward repairing their relationship.

"Here," he said, placing the two objects in Jennifer's hands. "He'll need this," he said softly.

She nodded appreciatively. "That was very thoughtful of you, Brian. I'll see that he gets it."

Just before he turned to go, he added one more thing. "I'll be over at Kinnetik for a while. Tell him to call me, though, okay?"

Jennifer's heart broke a little at the sad but hopeful tone in his voice. "I will," she told him. _But I can't promise you anything right now, Brian_. _This is a journey my son has to decide how to take on his own._

He nodded in acknowledgement of her agreement before he turned and headed toward the door. As Jennifer watched him go, she shook her head sadly, her thoughts in a jumble at she thought of the complicated, entangled mess that had abruptly reared its head.

* * *

Justin stood at the bedroom window as he watched Brian leave; he had awakened several minutes earlier to the sound of quiet conversation filtering up from downstairs. He didn't have to hear what was actually being said to know who was speaking; he had half-expected Brian to march upstairs and demand to see him. He was half-disappointed, half-relieved to see that he had been incorrect. He longed to see his partner again, to be held in his strong, comforting arms, but he _also_ needed some time to himself, and with Brian nearby that was almost impossible. Brian had been so wonderful to him, and so supportive; but he was becoming almost TOO protective, shielding him to the point where he couldn't think. And there was so much to think about. Where he was going to live, what he was going to do to support himself, where his life was going to take him - a life that now seemed destined to proceed without the advantage of his previous memories to shape it.

Oddly, once he had finally been able to get to sleep in the early pre-dawn hours, he had slept fitfully but dreamlessly; ironically, any other night and he would have had at least one dream that was tied somehow to his repressed past; last night, however, perhaps because he couldn't get his mind to fully rest, he had awakened without any recollection of having dreamed anything at all. He continued to stand at the window for a few minutes after his partner had grudgingly left; he could tell by Brian's slow walk to his car and his hesitation in opening up the driver's side door to get in that he really didn't want to leave. Justin recalled the moment last night when he had finally made the painful decision to write Brian a note and leave; he knew it was a cowardly way to do it, but he _also_ knew that if he had waited for Brian to return to the loft, he never would have had the strength to leave. One look at Brian's reaction and his willpower would have evaporated instantly.

He was thankful when he had shown up at his mother's condo that she hadn't peppered him with a lot of questions, but had instead waited patiently until he was ready to talk. And once he did open up, talk he did; the emotions and worries had poured out of him like a cascade of sorrow, guilt and regret. After he had finished, he hadn't really resolved anything - he still felt terribly tortured for what he was putting Brian though, especially - but in an odd way it had been somewhat cathartic. Just having a sympathetic ear in the form of his mother had made what had seemed an unsurmountable situation just a little easier to bear. Nothing was solved, but at least at his mother's he could have some space to reflect and contemplate how to move on in his life which was virtually at a standstill at the moment.

* * *

Justin emerged a few minutes later from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist; as he re-entered the bedroom, however, he noticed a large, black duffle bag sitting on top of the bed. Walking over to unzip it, he realized it contained several items of clothing that, judging from their size and the relative inexpensive look of them, must have belonged to him. He smirked a little - there was no way that Brian would have been caught dead in _these _brands of clothing. Assuming he would have to rewear the same clothes he had left in last night, he gratefully searched through the clean, fresh clothing to locate a long-sleeved tee shirt, blue jeans, briefs, and socks before slipping his sneakers back on.

Dressed now in a clean assemble and newly-showered, he still didn't feel very uplifted but at least the change in apparel and shower had served to help him feel a little more at ease. He opened the bedroom door and quietly walked down the steps to find his mother in the open kitchen, pouring herself some hot, steaming water into a mug for tea.

Jennifer looked up at her son's approach to smile at him softly. "You're awake," she greeted him. "I thought you would sleep in a little later." She knew he hadn't fallen asleep until just a short while ago and was surprised to see him up so soon; she knew how emotionally upset he had been last night and how hard it had been for him to get to sleep eventually. "Would you like some tea or coffee?" She grinned a little self-deprecatingly. "I sound kind of like a stewardess, don't I?'

He shook his head but smiled at her in return. "That's okay...I WILL take some coffee, though."

"It's right over there," she answered, pointing over to a nearby coffeemaker with an extra mug nearby. Justin walked the few feet over to the coffeemaker to pour himself a cup and scoop some sugar and a little creamer into it. As he stirred the contents with a spoon, he said softly, "I saw Brian leave a little while ago."

Jennifer looked over at her son and asked him quietly in a neutral tone, "You did?"

"Yeah. I heard the two of you talking earlier and walked over to the window to make sure it was him I had heard."

"I'm sorry if we woke you up," she told her son, not really sure how he felt about Brian coming over this morning. "We were trying to be quiet."

He shook his head as he carried his mug over to the nearby kitchen table and sat down. "It's okay...Actually, you weren't that loud. I guess I wasn't really sleeping that soundly," he admitted to her. Justin had far too many things on his mind to really be able to sleep well lately, especially after leaving Brian's loft last night. "Is Brian okay?" He almost was afraid to ask, but he _had_ to know.

Jennifer pondered her answer; Justin was already feeling quite guilty about his decision to leave Brian, and was filled with regret over his inability to reciprocate his partner's feelings equally. How much, then, should she divulge about her conversation with Brian earlier? Too much and Justin would feel even MORE guilty; too little and he wouldn't really appreciate the depth of Brian's feelings for him, as well as his determination to repair their fractured relationship. She finally decided on an honest, however shortened version.

"He's worried about you. And...he still loves you and wants you to come back. He misses you, Honey. But he's also willing to give you some time to think things over, if you feel you need that." _I just hope you don't take too long - for BOTH your sakes_. She bit back her opinion that she thought her son was making a big mistake leaving Brian; she was afraid if she tried to influence her son TOO much, he would wind up resenting her intrusion and regret his decision to come and stay with her. If he wasn't comfortable staying with Brian, she much preferred Justin be here with her than living somewhere else out of her sight.

Justin inhaled a shaky breath; he figured that would be Brian's response to his leaving, and it just served to make him feel even more terrible about what he had done. But he felt it was necessary; he HAD to figure out what to do, now that his memory was apparently gone forever. Despite his fervent wish to regain his past history, it appeared in all probability that that was now just a fading dream. If he was to move forward, it would have to start in the here and now, NOT the past.

"I know he's worried about me, Mom. And I DO care about Brian. He's been wonderful since I returned to Pittsburgh. It's just that..." he was finding the right words difficult to come up with. "It's not _right_ for me to depend on him for everything. It's not _fair_ to him OR to me. If this is the way it's going to be - if I'm never going to get my past memories back - then I have to figure out how to move on from HERE. Begin fresh."

She sat down opposite him at the table. "You mean _without Brian_?" she asked him pointedly, almost dreading his response. If her fiercely independent son was determined to move on wihout his partner, she would have to make her opinion known, because without this man, she truly thought her son's life would be empty. Justin may not realize that yet, but SHE did. Or was she simply looking at his situation from their previous standpoint? _Could_ he be happy without Brian if he really didn't understand what the man had meant to him? Whose standpoint was she looking from - her son's or _Brian's_?

Justin closed his eyes for a few seconds, afraid to look his mother in the eye. "I...don't know," he answered honestly. He sighed. "I honestly _don't know_. But ever since I got back, Brian has practically been _glued_ to my side. He's barely left me and has been virtually ignoring Kinnetik. And in spite of what he says about his other employees taking care of his company, his presence is necessary to its success. I'm sure when you're a big, influential client, you don't want to be seen by some flunkie - you want to be taken care of by the _President and CEO - BRIAN_." He looked across the table at his mother, who was listening intently. "I don't want to be the cause of his business tanking because he feels this need to take care of me. I won't have him jeopardizing his success at the expense of watching over ME." Justin already felt guilty enough - if Kinnetik started to go over because of him, too, he could never forgive himself.

Jennifer looked at her son sadly - her poor, sensitive, guilt-ridden son. Such a heavy burden to carry on such slim shoulders. How could these two ever repair what they had _lost_? There didn't seem to be any starting point to draw upon - the whole situation was so messed up. Maybe the only thing she _could_ do was just be there for both of them. "I wish I had all the answers for you," she told him truthfully, "but I don't. No one does, Honey. You just have to take things one day at a time and do what you feel is best for you -for _both _of you." She reached over to squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I will help you anyway I can. Just...don't make any hasty judgments, Sweetheart. Give it some time. You can stay here as long as you need to."

Justin smiled at her thankfully. "Thanks...Mom." The endearment still sounded stiff and awkward, but the beaming smile he received in return made it a little easier to say at least. "I appreciate that." He looked around the room thoughtfully. "I think it's time I find a way to support myself, though. What did I used to do before I left here?" he asked her curiously. From what Brian had told him before, he had been fairly self-sufficient, successful even, with his art once he had established himself in New York; but he couldn't just live off his accumulated savings forever. He needed to at least find something to occupy his time in between his paintings being sold and new ones being created. And truthfully, he needed something to occupy his mind - this constant agonizing over his current situation was counterproductive and mentally exhausting.

"Well, I think you have more than enough to live on for several months, maybe a few years even, but if you really want to work, you've had experience working at the Liberty Diner waiting on customers and you and Michael worked on a graphic comic before - he came up with the words and ideas and you provided the artwork."

Justin frowned, surprised. "I _did?"_ he verified; this was the first he had heard about either job - they both seemed like such opposites of each other. "Was I any good at them?" he asked curiously.

She smiled. "Yes, actually, you _were_; I would expect nothing less of my son," she teased gently. "You were quite popular with the diners at the deli - especially the _guys,_ of course, but the ladies didn't complain, either. And _Rage_ was quite successful - you and Michael almost managed to get it turned into a movie."

Justin was stunned. Their comic had been so good that someone had wanted to make a _movie _out of it? "Rage - that was the name of the comic book? And someone actually wanted to make it into a _movie_?" He was floored by that revelation; he couldn't believe something amateurish like that could have warranted the attention of a movie producer.

"Yes - the two of you were billing it as the first gay comic on the market. And the Hollywood guy who got wind of it was so interested in turning it into a movie that he had you come out to Los Angeles to help produce the storyboards for it."

"Wow," Justin was shocked and in disbelief. "What happened?"

"He eventually lost funding for it and had to scrap it," she told him regretfully; she had sorely missed her son while he had been gone, but she was also disappointed for him when he had had to return to Pittsburgh without the movie being done. At the time, he had told everyone how artificial everything and everyone was in LA, but he had told her the truth privately - he had absolutely _loved_ it. The only part he told her that he had missed was _Brian_ - the man he now was estranged from in an ironic twist of fate.

As Justin tried to digest that new piece of information regarding his past life, he tried furiously to force his mind to recall any of the time his mother was alluding to; again, to his profound disappointment, nothing surfaced. "What about the diner?" he asked abruptly, trying to change the subject to avoid torturing himself over yet another unsuccessful attempt to remember his past.

Jennifer replied, "Well, the comic and the potential movie obviously were more lucrative, but you pretty much were a favorite at the diner - you told me you always made good tips there. And received more than your share of "attention." I imagine if you really wanted to go back to work there, Debbie would be more than happy to put a good word in for you." Justin apparently didn't fully comprehend just how successful he had been in New York over the past year; he had more than enough to live on quite comfortably for the next year or two. But if her son felt he needed something to occupy his mind which was no doubt churning with all sorts of emotion, perhaps the diner might be a start. The only concern she had, however, was how his sudden appearance would affect the diners. Could Justin handle the tremendous notoriety his miraculous rise from the dead would no doubt generate?

"Justin..." she began hesitantly. She knew her son was getting tired of being coddled, but this was important. "You realize if you ask Debbie to come back to work at the diner that you're going to run into all kinds of people who will be shocked by your reappearance. Are you sure you're going to be able to handle that? You DID tell me that Dr. Keller warned you about not overwhelming yourself." She noticed her son's resentment beginning to appear on his face as she hastily added, "I'm just trying to be proactive here. I know how much you were hounded before after the Prom. You had a really hard time dealing with that." _At least without Brian's help,_ the though came unbidden to her mind.

Justin was about to retort with a snappy comeback, but he reconsidered. He hated being reminded about his so-called fragile state; it made him sound like a little, handicapped child rather than a successful, up and coming artist. But as much as he hated to admit it, his mother had a point. If he started working at the diner again - a place where he was apparently very well-known - he was bound to be the center of attention. Did he really want to re-emerge into Pittsburgh in that obvious a manner? Yet again it seemed like a perfectly reasonable plan had been shot to hell in a heartbeat. Would he _ever_ be able to return to any sense of normalcy?

He sighed. "Maybe you've got a point," he reluctantly admitted. "But what am I supposed to do? Just sit upstairs in my fucking room, praying that somehow my memory will miraculously return and I can just go back to life the way it _was_? That's NOT going to happen, Mom. What am I supposed to do in the _meantime_?"

She silently stewed over that dilemma until she came up with an idea. "Maybe what you've _always_ done, Honey, when you've needed to express your feelings..._Paint_." She stood up and walked over to the side of the couch to pick up something. As Justin watched, she returned with an object he immediately recognized as an art portfolio holder. "Where did you _get_ that?" he asked her curiously; he knew it hadn't been there last night. Of course, the words were no sooner out of his mouth than he already knew the answer: _Brian_. "HE brought that over this morning, didn't he?" he asked his mother softly. "Along with the clothes."

She nodded as she placed the portfolio on the table. "Yes," she verified softly. She smiled wistfully as she gazed at him. "He loves you so much, Justin. Give him a chance, won't you? Give _both of you_ a chance." She had promised to try and stay impartial but she couldn't help it - she knew somehow that Brian held the key to her son's happiness, whether he realized it or not.

"Mom..."

"I know, I know...I promised myself I wouldn't intrude or influence you...at least I promised that to _myself_. But if you could have just _seen _him, Honey..."

"Mom, I _know_ what this is doing to him, okay? I fucking _know_...Don't you think it's affecting me _too? _But I'm trying to see the bigger picture here - I need some time to think and HE needs time, too. To keep his company afloat and to consider what's best for _him_. Please try to understand," he beseeched her. He felt bad enough without her reiterating to him how this was affecting his partner - he already painfully _knew_ that.

Jennifer bit her lip in frustration; she wanted to help Justin AND Brian so much, but unfortunately it was out of her control. She sighed then. "All right, Honey. I'll back off - for _now_. I can't promise, though, that I won't throw my two cents worth in from time to time, okay?"

He grimaced a little before just the hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Okay," he told her somewhat hesitantly. "As long as you realize it's MY decision to make...deal?"

"Deal." she said, but she noticed her son wasn't listening to her; it was as if he had zoned out or something. "Justin?" she asked him, concerned; her son had a sort of faraway look on his face as he tried to concentrate on something. "What _is _it?"

But Justin wasn't listening to her; instead, he was listening to a conversation taking place inside his head between him, Brian, and another man he recognized by now as Michael, Brian's best friend and his apparent co-hort on the Rage comic book. In his mind's eye, he could see the three of them inside Brian's loft. There were papers everywhere - white sheets of paper that were on the floor and hanging up by wooden pins as if they were items of clothing held up to dry. Only these items contained drawings and cartoon bubbles. In his vision, Brian was telling the two of them that he would provide them with an internet advertising campaign for Rage that would make every gay fag in Pittsburgh want one. He had ended his sales pitch by asking them he would do that if they wanted him to, and then he had asked them simply, "deal?"

And in his mind, he could clearly hear himself and Michael echoing the same word back at him: "deal." Just like his mother had just asked him. He had _remembered that_, as clearly as he was standing there right now.

"Justin?" He slowly realized his mother was speaking to him and he came back to the present with a start. "Are you okay?" she asked him, staring at him intently.

He smiled then. "Yeah," he assured her. "Yeah...I'm okay." He slowly rose and reached over to pull the portfolio toward him. "I...think I'll go _paint _for a while."


	43. Chapter 43:  An Unwelcome Instrusion

_**A/N: Dear Readers - This is going to be a rather tough chapter. I would give you an angst warning, but if you've read it THIS far, that should go without saying - LOL! Things are going to look a little bleak here, but stay with me...there's about to be some reason for hope in the next few chapters...As always, thank you to everyone for reading and especially to those readers who take the extra time to review - that is what motivates me to keep writing! :)**_

* * *

_Tuesday Evening – Brian's Loft_

A persistent knocking on his door roused a groggy Brian from the sleep he had finally managed to get after his previous night of fitful, restless tossing and turning. As he slowly opened his eyes and sat up on the couch, he noticed the elongated tendrils of night had begun to invade his loft, meaning it must be fast approaching at least 8:00 p.m. Since Justin had returned from Harrisburg, it seemed that Brian's normally predictable schedule of working at Kinnetik during the day, playing pool or eating out in the evening, and partying until the early morning hours at his newly-remodeled club or some other dance club had been shot to hell. Now he was having trouble merely figuring out what time of day it was.

He sighed as another, even firmer knock sounded on his door. "All right already! I'm _coming,_ damn it!" he groused as he swung his legs around and stood up somewhat uncertainly on the floor; as he slowly gained his "sea legs" he ambled over to the door and slid it open to reveal a rather perturbed Daphne standing on the other side. "Why did you let him DO it?" she demanded without any preamble.

Brian didn't even bother to try and figure out how his visitor had managed to get in through the front door before he responded. "Nice to see you, _too_, Daphne," Brian scowled as he stood aside to let her enter.

Daphne was not intimidated, however, as she repeated, "Why, Brian? Why did you let him DO it?"

Brain frowned and shook his head; he was still too tired to register what in the hell she was trying to ask and he could feel the telltale signs of a tension headache coming on. "What the _fuck_ are you going on about?" he snarled, as he followed her back into the living room. He sat down but noticed Daphne did not, choosing instead to pace around the open hardwood area in front of the windows.

She finally stood still long enough to repeat her question, except this time she finally made herself understood. "Why did you let him _leave?"_ She stood rocking on her heels, her arms crossed over her chest as she defiantly stared back at him.

Brian shook his head in irritation. "What would you have had me _do_, Daphne? Tie him to the couch with a bucket to piss in and feed him from a fucking _tray table?"_ He huffed out a breath of frustration; how could she NOT understand? "You know Justin probably better than _anyone_, except maybe me…..Do you _really_ think making him stay here would have _worked?" _A thought suddenly occurred to him. "How did you _know_, anyway?"

"Mrs. Taylor's been helping me find a condo to buy, and she called me this morning to explain why she couldn't show me any properties today." Her face softened somewhat as she noticed Brian's look of frustration, mirroring her own. Truthfully, she was more angry at JUSTIN right now than Brian. _What was WRONG with her friend?_ Of course, she knew the answer to that – if he was the way he _should_ be, Justin would have _never_ left Brian. "I'm…_sorry, _Brian," she finally replied, her voice a lot calmer now. "You're _right…_Memories or not, Justin would have resented being told to stay here. But there must be _something _you can do!"

Brian contorted his face. "Well, if you think of something, let me know," he muttered, running his hand through his hair. "I've exhausted about every avenue I can think of short of hiring a fucking deprogrammer or something to _force_ him to remember. If I really thought that would work, I'd do it, too," he stated with determination. "As much as I absolutely hate it, Justin's going to have to work this out himself."

"But, Brian," Daphne persisted, grasping his forearm to get his attention as he walked over to join her. "You can't just let it go at _that! _You're just going to _ignore him?_"

Brian glanced up to meet her gaze, his eyes flashing with aggravation. "I didn't _say_ that," he growled. "Do you really think I'm just going to let this _drop?_ Damn it, Daphne, I _love_ the little shit! Yes, he's driving me fucking _crazy_ right now, but if he thinks I'm just going to accept us going our merry little separate ways, he's dead _wrong_!" Wincing a little at his rather poor choice of the word _dead,_ Brian broke away from Daphne to peer out onto the street below; he noticed that Daphne simply followed him and was standing directly behind him, waiting for him to continue.

He sighed; these sessions of _To Tell the Truth_ were still difficult for him, even now. He looked up into the reflection of Daphne's face, one that was now in companionable silence with his own. He shook his head, trying to phrase his words properly. "I'm _NOT_ going to give up, Daphne," he promised her firmly. "It…..took me too long to find out what it means to….._love_ someone," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now that I know, I'm not going to let him give up on us. I don't care _how_ fucking long it takes."

Daphne's eyes filled with tears at Brian's heartfelt words of determination, tinged with just a hint of sorrow and worry. When she had first met this man, she would have _never_ thought Justin would have had a chance of breaking through his cocky, arrogant, indifferent shell. But now as she heard Brian revealing his love for his partner openly, she could hardly believe it. She wasn't surprised to hear him admit that he loved Justin – that had been obvious for some time now – but she _was_ a little surprised to see that he would admit it to HER. Justin had always told her that even after they had almost gotten married, Brian still had a hard time saying those three words very often; her friend had told her not too long ago that he thinks Brian had only said them out loud after the bombing perhaps 4 or 5 times more. But he told her when he _did_ say them, it only made them sound that much _sweeter_. Of course, Justin had indicated that Brian really didn't have to say the words much, anyway – he _showed _him that he loved him all the time.

She reached again for his arm to get his attention as she turned to face him. "You know I'll do whatever I can to make that happen," she vowed as her eyes blazed with determination. "You two _belong_ together – just like soul mates."

Brian curled his lips under almost in a shy way. It was hard for him to ask for or accept help. But if it would help him get Justin back, he would take _anyone's_ assistance. "Thanks, Daphne," he whispered with just a hint of a grateful smile.

That awkward moment thankfully over, Daphne prodded, "So what are we going to _do?"_

Brian smiled at her use of the word _WE_; he was actually grateful to have a co-conspirator in crime. He also knew that Jennifer also felt the same way, even though she was presently somewhat torn between wanting Justin and him together and needing to protect her son at the same time. He was confident, however, that when everything was said and done, she would also help him. Now all they had to do was convince a certain stubborn, confused man that it was in HIS best interest, too.

Brian smiled; for the first time since his partner had left, he actually felt a little more optimistic. So what WAS going to be their first move in _Operation Justin_? All he knew was that he had to see him and talk to him, somehow make him understand that if they were going to move forward, it had to be TOGETHER. After all, how could Justin ever possibly remember what the two of them had shared if Brian wasn't there to _remind_ him? A past recollection appeared unbidden in his mind: _I'm glad ONE of us remembered._ That night when they had made love – their "_second_ first time" – it had been so special and so highly anticipated; for a while, Brian had been concerned that Justin wouldn't allow him to be touched the way he wanted to touch him. That night had been bittersweet – being able to finally express his love physically for his partner again while knowing that Justin couldn't remember one of the most special nights of their lives. He sighed – ironically, that same feeling was coming to the surface again – that longing as well as regret for what had been and may never be again.

He pushed that morose thought aside; that was then, this is NOW. _Well, Sunshine, I REMEMBER and it's MY turn to be there for YOU now. _He just knew that he had to talk to him; only by seeing him and talking to him could he convince him to come back to the loft to try again, just like he had been able to convince Justin to return with him to Pittsburgh after the accident, even though at that point Brian had been a relative stranger to him. Justin somehow, though, knew he could trust him. Well, he was going to count on that same feeling _now. _"Daphne…..I really need to see him, to talk to him, to make him understand that he needs to be here with ME, not isolated where he can't be helped to recall his past. I know he won't come back here just by my asking him, but I don't want to try and talk to him somewhere in the middle of some fucking crowd. His "rise from the dead" is still pretty much a secret to most people; I don't want to draw attention to him yet, not until he's ready for it, and I sure don't feel like he IS. I'm going to be at _Pulse_ tomorrow night for the grand reopening. You think you could get Justin over there around, say, 7:30? The club won't re-open until 10:00, so that would give us a few hours to talk privately."

Daphne frowned. "I'm not sure how he's going to _react_ to that….he knows it's your club. Don't you think he's going to suspect what's going on? Isn't there somewhere _else_ you can meet him?" She had her doubts as to how she could convince Justin to accompany her there; he may have lost most of his past memory, but he was bound to at least remember the place he and that doctor had visited a few weeks ago.

"Well, he won't come back here to the loft, and I'd bet he won't go over to Kinnetik, either. He won't take any of my calls, either." He pondered her comment, thinking perhaps she was right. But he felt like he was obligated to be at _Pulse_ tomorrow for the re-opening; just like the first time he had reopened Babylon, he felt he needed to be there to determine whether it was going to be successful or not. He only hoped that _this_ time, there would more than a dozen people in attendance. Funny, though – _this_ time it didn't seem nearly as important in light of what had happened recently.

"I can't really get out of going there tomorrow night, and as much as I hate to admit it, Justin was right about Kinnetik. I can't neglect it totally to the point where it starts to tank." He breathed out an air of frustration. "Can't you come up with _some_ excuse to at least be in the general _vicinity_? If you _could_, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to convince him to at least take a peek at the new club."

Daphne considered that as she thought of other shops and restaurants in the general area of Brian's club. "Well, there _is_ a small Chinese buffet located near there," she recalled. "I could call him and see if I could talk him into going out to eat tomorrow night. I'm sure Mrs. Taylor would help me to _persuade_ him. The buffet's about a half-block from your club – you know the one, over on Court Street?"

"Yeah," Brian responded with a slight smile of nostalgia. "Justin and I used to get take out there all the time." _Before the accident_. "That's a good idea, Daphne. Maybe after dinner you could suggest a walk to work off some of the ten million calories he always seems able to put away," he quipped. "You think you can do it?"

She smiled. "I will make it my special mission," she replied firmly. "And I'm sure his mother will help, too. I'll call him as soon as I get home tonight. Don't worry."

He nodded, relieved that he hopefully will see his partner again tomorrow; he had missed him so fucking much just in the short time he had been gone. Brian still couldn't sleep in their bed; the thought of being there now without his partner's warm, familiar body was too much to contemplate. The couch made his neck and back stiff, but he didn't care; as long as Justin was gone, there would be _no one_ in their bed, including HIM. He vowed to himself that the next time he slept – or better yet, _made love_ in that bed – _Justin_ would be with him.

"I'm going to be counting on you, Daphne," Brian told her softly.

"It's going to work out," she told him confidently. "I know it will," she added, leaving no room for doubt as far as she was concerned. Justin had fallen in love with the man the first time he had seen him; a love like that just didn't disappear. She wouldn't _let _it.

She rather self-consciously pulled Brian's head down by his neck to give him a brief kiss on the cheek; there was just something about this normally self-assured man seeming so clearly _vulnerable_ right now that just made her want to comfort him. "We'll see you tomorrow," she told him. "At least HE will – I'm going to conveniently vanish the first second he turns around," she disclosed conspiratorially as she winked at him. "I'd better get going now – I have a phone call to make."

_

* * *

_

_Jennifer's Condo – Tuesday Evening_

Justin stood in front of the easel, paint brush in his hand. He had spent most of the day painting and his hand was beginning to throb as a result. His face contorted as he felt a fresh wave of searing pain. "Fuck!" he cried out as he dropped the brush into a nearby can of water and grabbed his right hand with his left.

"Honey?" he heard the concerned voice of his mother filtering down from upstairs; she had suggested Justin set up his temporary "studio" down in the furnished basement, since it was more spacious and cooler than the rest of the condo. There was also a set of French doors made entirely out of glass and a row of windows set on either side of them to provide a surprisingly large amount of natural light, just perfect for an artist's perspective. She didn't like the sound of Justin's voice just then, however; after he had been painting pretty much all day, she could surmise what the problem was. Her son's hand thankfully didn't affect him as much as it used to, but sadly it did tend to act up from time to time, especially when he had been working diligently on a project non-stop. "Are you okay?" she asked him.

Justin took a deep breath; he was trying to understand his mother's concern, but it was difficult not to continue feeling like he was being treated like a sick child. He sighed as he tried to control the flash of temper trying to rise to the surface. "I'm okay," he told his mother. "I…..think I'll just take a short break, though."

Even though her son was a young adult now, Jennifer still wanted nothing more right now than to walk downstairs and comfort him. She bit back the maternal instinct, however, and sat back down on the family room couch. She told Brian she would keep a watchful eye on him, but at the same time she knew her son wouldn't care for her hovering over him the entire time. She had finally resigned herself to working on her laptop upstairs in the family room on real estate comps while her son was given some privacy downstairs to express his feelings through his art.

She had taken a peek at what he was working on earlier when he gone upstairs to his bedroom for a nap; she found herself fighting back some tears at the time as she peered at his current creation. She wasn't an art expert, but she could still see the pain, sorrow, and frustration clearly reflected in her son's work. The abstract painting was filled with angry, dark, almost threatening swirls of strong brushstrokes and foreboding, dense colors of deep gray, purple and burgundy. She recalled the works she had seen at Justin's studio in New York City a few months ago before the accident, when he had decided to definitely move back home to be with Brian – previously his main inspiration for most of his art. His pieces then had been so much happier, almost _joyous_ in their vibrancy and color. Jennifer had always admired Justin for his ability to transfer his feelings onto canvas; but looking at how he felt right now, it was extremely upsetting to her. She only hoped this angry, painful stage in his life would be a brief, temporary one. She just didn't really know how to help him achieve that.

Her cell phone rang as she reached over to notice the caller I.D. and flip it open. "Daphne," she greeted her son's friend softly. "What's up?" Daphne had always been such a loyal, dependable friend for her son; she would be eternally grateful for that. This young woman had slowly become almost like another daughter to her, and during that horrible period a few weeks ago when both of them had thought Justin had died, they had grown even closer.

"Hi, Mrs. Taylor," Daphne greeted her warmly. "How _is_ he?"

Jennifer kept her voice low so Justin would not overhear. "He's….hanging in there. He's downstairs working on a painting. He's been there practically all day long, Daphne. I don't think that's good for him to be so isolated from everyone right now, but on the other hand, I'm not sure how he would react to being recognized in a big crowd." The pain was evident as she continued in a choked voice, "Daphne….He needs _Brian_. I try to do what I can, but it's just not _enough_. BRIAN is the one he remembers the most, the one he feels most comfortable with. But this guilt he's carrying around is _eating him up_. I just don't know what to do or how to help him." She sighed – it was so difficult to see her son in so much pain and to feel helpless to do anything about it. "Maybe he needs some counseling, Daphne – I try to be there for him, but he just shuts himself off from me most of the time and wants to be alone to brood. That _can't_ be healthy for him." At least her son wasn't acting out his frustration aggressively like before when he had been bashed and was literally _throwing_ objects – and _her,_ at least unintentionally – all over his bedroom. She wasn't sure, though, if this latest manifestation of his pain and frustration was a better alternative or not.

"I know, Mrs. Taylor," Daphne told her sympathetically. "But listen – I have an idea. Is Justin within hearing distance right now?"

"Hold on," she said softly as she quietly stood up and padded over to the kitchen, as far away from the open basement steps as possible and out of Justin's earshot. "Go ahead," she instructed the young woman. "What do you have in mind?"

Daphne smiled, even though she knew Jennifer couldn't see her. Jennifer could still hear the hopeful excitement in her voice. "I just got home from seeing Brian at the loft," she told the older woman. "He wants me to invite him out for dinner tomorrow night and just _conveniently_ wind up near Babylon – _Pulse, _I mean. Tomorrow night is the club's grand re-opening, and Brian wants me to try and get Justin over there around 7:30 so he can talk to him privately beforehand." Her voice came out in a breathless whisper as the hope permeated clearly over the phone.

"Do you think you can _do_ that?" Jennifer asked her somewhat skeptically. Her son may presently have a memory problem, but he was still quite intelligent as well as perceptive. She really didn't think he would fall for that subterfuge. "He's going to know something's up when the two of you just _happen_ to wind up near Brian's club."

"Probably so," she conceded. "But I'm hoping he'll want to get out for a break and when he _does_ realize where he is, he'll agree to at least talk to him. I know how much he still cares about Brian, or he wouldn't be so guilt-ridden over the whole thing. Now let's get this ball rolling and let me talk to him."

_Yes, Ma'am_, Jennifer thought with a tender smile. "Hold on, I'll get him," she told her son's friend. "And Daphne…_Good Luck_."

"Justin? Honey, come here – Daphne wants to talk to you."

* * *

_Wednesday Morning – Harrisburg General Hospital_

"Hey, Michelle," Andrew greeted his friend at the ICU nurses' station. Michelle noticed that the doctor seemed particularly cheery this morning.

"Someone's in a good mood," she observed, as she worked on finishing up her third cup of coffee. She had had to come in earlier this usual this morning and due to the change in her schedule, she found herself having a hard time staying fully awake. "Did you win the lottery or something?" she asked him teasingly.

Andrew beamed. "Not yet – but I'm _hoping_ to soon," he answered mysteriously.

At Michelle's look of confusion, he announced, "I got Dr. Meyers to trade a shift with me, so I'm out of here in another hour."

"How come?" He stared at her as if she was being particularly dense before the proverbial light bulb turned on in her head. "Ah…" she smiled broadly now as she reached out to playfully toy with her friend's stethoscope. "Leaving a little early for your _seminar_ in Pittsburgh, Doctor_?"_

Andrew smiled, knowing that he had been caught. "Maybe," he said coyly. "I just thought it might be wise to get there a day early so I can check into the hotel and get myself situated," he explained reasonably.

"Uh, huh," she said, totally not fooled. "And you might not be thinking about looking up a certain blond while you're there?" she asked him, smirking. Inside, she was actually thrilled her friend was apparently taking her advice and planning on seeking Justin out to talk to him and tell him (finally) how he really felt about him.

"Well, if I _happen_ to _stumble across him_ somewhere…_maybe_," he said; the anticipation in his voice was evident as he thought about the man who had occupied his every waking thought – and some particularly vivid dreams – lately. _Finally_ he was going to get the chance to talk to Justin and tell him just how he felt about him; that he hadn't been able to get him out of his mind and he was falling hopelessly in love with the blond artist.

He fingered the slip of paper in his jacket pocket that had Justin's current address listed on it. He had called Dr. Keller's office yesterday afternoon and spoke to his secretary with the pretense that he was checking up on his former "patient;" through his charming manner and professional demeanor, he had managed to determine that Justin had recently moved in with his mother, Jennifer Taylor, and he had been able to obtain her address and telephone number from the woman. He had been extremely interested to learn of this latest development; so Justin was no longer staying with that arrogant Kinney, but had moved in with his mother. Did that mean the two of them had severed their _relationship_? Andrew allowed himself to hope that, because it would mean that finally he would have his chance to tell Justin how he felt and hopefully pursue a deeper relationship with him. Yes, things were definitely looking a lot more encouraging than before, and he was looking forward excitedly to seeing his beautiful friend again.

"Andrew….Are you _listening_ to me?" He looked over a little embarrassed at Michelle, who was trying to get his attention. Michelle chuckled as she reached over to pat his shoulder patronizingly. "Boy, you DO have it _bad_," she chided him good naturedly. "I think it's a good idea for you to leave today. You obviously wouldn't have your mind on your _work_," she decided, winking at him.

He smiled back at her in return, not even trying to deny what he had been thinking about. "Wish me luck," he said, giving her a short, smart salute before he turned to leave. In little more a couple of hours, he would be flying to Pittsburgh and his much-anticipated reunion with Justin.

_

* * *

_

__

_Wednesday Evening – 7:05 p.m._

Justin groaned as he and Daphne walked slowly down the sidewalk as they emerged from the restaurant. "Why did I ever decide to go back for seconds?" he moaned. "I am STUFFED more than all the wontons I ate!" He was so glad that his friend had called last night to invite him out to eat; at first he had hesitated, afraid that someone would recognize him and make a big deal out of his stunning reappearance among the living. But by the time Daphne had driven them downtown, the sun had set and night had begun to gratefully envelop them in a blanket of anonymous darkness.

Daphne laughed softly. "You went back for the same reason you _always_ go back – your eyes are bigger than your stomach," she teased him. As Justin actually smiled a little, she was gladdened to see his spirits lifted, at least temporarily. She could almost see a small glimmer of the old Justin there somewhere in his expression. She suddenly realized with a pang of melancholy how much she missed those types of moments the two of them had shared so often in the past.

"What?" Justin asked her, noticing the abrupt change on her face. "Is something wrong?" he asked, as the two of them stopped by the side of the walkway.

She shook her head and smiled slightly. "No…..It's just when you said that…..It reminded me of the old days." The words _before your accident_ weren't said aloud, but it wasn't needed. Both of them knew what she meant. "I've….. missed you, Justin," she told him softly.

Justin sobered at her sad, nostalgic admission; it just brought back once more how guilty he felt over his inability to remember what he had meant to all these people who cared about him. "I'm…..sorry, Daphne," he said, biting his lower lip pensively.

_Damn it_, Daphne lamented. Justin had actually been acting almost normally; one comment from her about his past and he had quickly reverted back to his brooding, sad self. It was evidently time to put the next part of her and Brian's plan into motion. _Here goes….wish me luck._ "It's okay," she said, trying to reassure him. "Why don't we work off some of your second helpings and go for a _walk_? There's a really cool used CD shop down the street I've been dying to check out. All my friends said it's really neat."

She watched a little apprehensively as Justin hesitated. "I don't know, Daphne," he said tentatively. "My mom's probably waiting for me at home – maybe I'd better get back." He really had no idea whether his mother was worried about him or not – for some reason he just felt nervous about being out in the open again, even under the cover of night. He and Daphne had had a pleasant time eating dinner together, and thankfully no one had seemed to recognize him. But the longer they walked down the sidewalk amongst the bustling herd of people rushing to their destinations, the more likely it was that someone would recognize and make a big deal out of it. He just didn't feel ready to deal with that yet.

"Come on, Justin," Daphne implored him, pouring on the neediness. She just HAD to convince him to walk with her – just by _sheer coincidence_ right by Brian's club. "Your mom knows you're with me – she'll be fine with it. Besides, she told me Tucker was coming over to her condo for dinner. You don't want to be a third wheel while he's there, do you?" She had no idea whether Tucker was going over there tonight for dinner or not – she had just experienced an epiphany of inspiration and was using it to her definite advantage as she poured on the persuasion.

"Tucker? My mother's _boyfriend_?" Justin hadn't met the man yet, but his mother had described her relationship with him. Apparently her mother had been seeing this man for almost two years now, so it must be serious. Daphne was right, though – the last thing he wanted to do was stay home while his mother was entertaining some man who was involved with her – he didn't know this man at all and besides, it just felt kind of….._weird_.

"Yeah…..Simple choice here. Would you rather hang out with me at some cool used CD shop, or be delegated to the basement at your mom's house until her _boyfriend_ leaves? That is, IF he leaves….."

"Daphne," Justin retorted a little crossly. "She wouldn't _do_ that." At least he _hoped_ she wouldn't – he would definitely feel awkward knowing that this man was spending the night there with his _mother_.

He finally conceded maybe staying with Daphne for the rest of the evening might not be such a bad idea; he had actually enjoyed himself for the most part tonight. He had needed this type of diversion from the roller coaster ride that had been his life lately. "Okay…..Let's go check it out, then," he decided to Daphne's enormous relief.

As they wandered idly down the street, she prayed that Brian was ready for what might be one of the most important nights of his life. _I've done my part, Brian – it's up to YOU_ _now_.

_

* * *

_

_Pulse – same time_

Brian flipped the switch that would turn the sound system on. Despite Ted's assurances earlier today that everything was ready for the big re-opening later tonight, he wasn't taking any chances. He was gratified to see that the lighting system was performing perfectly as the two-tiered, chrome and black marble floor rotated slowly; now the next, big test was the pulsating, throbbing techno music that was so much a part of any gay dance club. After all, if fags were expected to want to dance (and by natural progression, drink) they had to have a state-of-the-art sound system blasting music out for their enjoyment – whether they were interested in dancing with their latest date-du-jour or just plain fucking someone's brains out in the refurbished back room.

The heart-stopping, rapid beating of the newest songs currently being played on some of the hippest radio stations in Pittsburgh began to loudly permeate the room as Brian smiled in relief; at least the club was on schedule to re-open tonight as planned. Now all he needed was for Daphne to provide him with the opportunity to talk to his partner and convince him to come back to him. She had managed to text him at the Chinese restaurant about 30 minutes ago when they were about to leave; she had promised to try and text him again later to let him know if she had been successful in talking Justin into approaching the club. _Come on, Daph…..I'm COUNTING_ _on you here. _Without Justin back in his life, this club didn't mean a fucking thing to him.

He turned off the blasting music, a little startled by the abrupt change into absolute silence. The only sound he could hear now was the rapid beating of his heart and the ragged breathing of his lungs as he anxiously anticipated seeing Justin again. He gave a soft sigh as he swung himself down from the DJ's booth and stood in the center of the dance floor. A wave of memories washed over him – SO many wonderful memories of him and Justin dancing together here as if they were one body. He recalled the night they had _finally, thankfully_ been reunited again after that horrible period when Justin had taken off with that….._fiddler_.They had fucked and made love over and over again that night in his office and at the loft before they had dressed up in their dancing clothes and returned triumphantly to this place. Once they had taken up residence in the middle of the dance floor, no one else mattered; they only had eyes for each other. What a glorious night that had been! And it had been one of several hundred nights spent in this place. Dancing with Justin here the other night had been so wonderful, feeling him in his arms as they swayed to the music. He hoped that he would be doing that again tonight – before the two of them returned to his loft – _their loft_ – together.

He had been lost so deeply in melancholy thoughts of nostalgia that he jumped a little as he heard his phone chime to sound notice that a text had been received. His heart began to beat faster as he flipped the phone open to read Daphne's message. _We're on our way…Good Luck. D._ Closing his eyes in relief, he rushed over to the entrance to await his partner's imminent arrival.

* * *

As Andrew drove down the unfamiliar roads of downtown Pittsburgh, he was grateful for his rental car's GPS, because in the cloudy, moonless night he only had this piece of technology and an occasional street light to help him navigate the confusing streets. Although he had been disappointed to find out that his former roommate wasn't at home when he had called earlier, Justin's mom, Jennifer, had been more than gracious about divulging where he had gone. She had told her son's former doctor that he and a friend, Daphne, had gone out to eat at a Chinese buffet on Court Street. Now, loaded with this piece of important information, he slowed down as he began to scour the storefronts on either side for signs of a building befitting the description that Justin's mother had provided him.

He knew this was rather silly; he could have simply waited until tomorrow and shown up at Justin's mother's doorstep. However, he was due at the seminar first thing on Thursday and more importantly, he just couldn't _wait_ any longer – he _HAD_ to see this incredible man again.

Oddly enough, as he continued to slowly cruise the street where the Chinese restaurant was supposed to be located, he began to experience an odd feeling of déjà vu as if he had somehow been here before. Why in the hell would _this _seem familiar? The only other time he had been in Pittsburgh was when he had agreed to drive Justin here to visit Babylon, the ill-fated club that had been bombed several months ago. Was it possible this restaurant was located nearby?

His musing vanished quickly, however, as he finally spied the name of the Chinese buffet Justin's mother had mentioned – _The Golden Rooster_. Spying a nearby parking spot, he pulled his rental car into the slot and shoved sufficient coins in the parking meter before he rushed toward the entrance. Opening the door eagerly, he looked out over the large dining room anxiously for a sign of his former patient and roommate. His shoulders drooped as he finally realized his hoped-for reunion with his former roommate was not going to happen, at least not right now. He sighed in frustration; he had been _so close_. Justin's mother had told him that her son's friend, Daphne, had picked him up at 6:15 for dinner; it was now just barely after 7:00. How was it possible that the two friends could have left Mrs. Taylor's home at 6:15, driven down here and already been done _eating?_ It just didn't seem possible.

He looked around the sidewalk in defeat as he re-emerged from the restaurant. He was just about to give up before he happened to spot a golden-haired, slender man walking next to a curly-haired brunet woman under a streetlight just down the street.

It HAD to be Justin – he thought he could recognize him _anywhere_. As he watched, the man turned to say something to his companion and his heart leapt. He had been right – it WAS Justin. He debated whether to rush back to his parked rental and follow him in the car; however, he was afraid if he took the time to do that, he would run the risk of losing sight of him and he HAD to talk to him. Making a spontaneous decision, then, he took off briskly after his target, his slightly taller stature benefitting him as he kept a trained eye on his former roommate.

* * *

"How much farther?" Justin asked his friend curiously as they strolled companionably, pausing here and there to window shop at some of the store windows selling clothing, collectibles, and various gifts ranging from a gothic theme to science fiction. Justin had to admit he was enjoying just being outside like any other "normal" person on a nice, warm evening, and so far no one had seemed to notice they were walking amongst a living "miracle."

Daphne pretended to be mesmerized by a nearby window displaying incense containers as she answered casually, "Not far." _Not far at all to Brian's club_. "Just about another block or so." She was relieved that Justin didn't seem to realize where they were and how close they were coming to _Pulse_; if he DID, she had a feeling he would be protesting vehemently at her ruse. She didn't care, though – she decided if it helped bring her best friend and his partner back together, it would be _worth_ any possible wrath she may incur.

From an artist's perspective, Justin found the twinkling faux gaslight streetlamps and the lighted display windows fascinating, as well as the people watching. It seemed that every type of nationality and body type were passing them by – all ages, hair colors, and fashion styles from the conservative businessman to the flamboyant self-appointed nelly queens in their sparkling spandex and shiny leather pants. They all thankfully seemed to pay him no mind as he and Daphne meandered farther down the street, closer and closer to Brian's club.

As they neared _Pulse_, Daphne noticed her friend slowing down and frowning. "What is it?" she asked, afraid that he was suffering some sort of physical effect from his injury. Jennifer had assured her that Dr. Keller had advised Justin that his outward injuries from the accident were healing satisfactorily, but she couldn't quite fathom the odd expression that had suddenly appeared on her friend's face. "Are you okay?" she asked him, concerned.

Justin slowed to a stop, his eyebrows narrowing in growing suspicion. "I've…._been here before_," he declared firmly. "Haven't I?" he asked Daphne. He continued to stand there, puzzled but nonetheless certain that he had seen some of the same scenery before, but how? He searched his troubled, damaged mind for the answers for several seconds until a flash of revelation fell into place. "This is near Brian's club," he told her in a wary tone of voice. "Isn't it?" He looked over at Daphne, who had become strangely quiet, but he already knew the answer by the guilty look that had appeared on her face.

He huffed angrily, "You _set me UP_, didn't you? You _purposely_ led me here to Brian's club! Why?"

Daphne winced at the accusatory tone of Justin's voice. "Justin….." she began, trying to explain.

"_NO, _Daphne!" he cut her off abruptly. "I don't want to _hear_ it!" He shook his head and placed his hands defiantly on his hips. "I can't fucking _believe THIS! _You didn't call me just to ask me out for dinner and you didn't suggest a walk just to check out some CD store…you and Brian are in on this _together_, aren't you? I don't BELIEVE this!" he cried, his eyes blazing. He turned around to start walking back in the direction of her car – _anywhere_ but here, in front of Brian's club. He already felt tremendous guilt over his inability to return his partner's feelings for him and he was the _last_ person he could face at the moment. Didn't anyone _understand_? The constant pain, the constant grief, the constant questioning _why?_ Didn't they realize that every second he was awake and every dream he remembered focused on what he had lost and what Brian had sacrificed for him? Didn't they realize how that made him _feel?_ And now the person who he thought was his best friend, his confidante, had tried to lead him straight back to his partner's presence so he could once again feel the pangs of remorse and regret all over again. It was too much; he just couldn't deal with that pain any more.

"Justin!" Daphne cried out as he moved farther and farther away; they had been _so_ close – so close to he and Brian trying to talk out their concerns and hopefully reach an agreement to work _together_ to begin their relationship anew. Now, Justin was filled with anger over her plan to help him, and Brian and was once again left alone. She closed her eyes and sighed as she thought of what a tangled, complicated mess everything had become all of a sudden. There was no use in trying to catch up with Justin, either – his longer legs were quickly carrying him quickly away from her and Brian's plans for a reconciliation.

As if things couldn't get any worse, Daphne heard her name being called behind her as Brian came rushing up to her side. "Where's Justin?" he asked anxiously, unable to keep the excited hope from sounding in his voice. He looked around quickly as he tried to spy his partner nearby. His face dropped, however, as he followed her line of vision and saw his partner halfway down the street. His _heart _dropped, also, as he recognized a man quickly approaching his partner from the opposite direction – the man who had taken care of his partner in Harrisburg and had made no effort to hide his personal interest in him. Brian's face flushed with anger as he continued to stare at the man whose face lit up as soon as he noticed Justin coming toward him.

Justin was so upset over being tricked into meeting with Brian that he continued to stride angrily away from Daphne, his head down as he paid no mind to the numerous bystanders passing him by. He jumped and let out a surprised gasp as someone firmly grasped his upper arms. "Justin!" he heard a familiar, male voice calling him, but it wasn't _Brian's_ voice he heard – it was someone _else's_. He looked up in shock, instead, at the smiling, delighted face of his former roommate. "Andrew?" he said softly, puzzled. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked him in surprise.

Andrew was absolutely thrilled to find Justin, but noticed immediately how upset he appeared; his face was contorted as if he was in pain and his breathing was hard and raspy. "Looks like you could use a friend right about now - let's go somewhere and talk, huh?" he suggested, as he rubbed his hands soothingly up and down the blond's forearms and smiled tenderly at him. Despite Justin's somewhat agitated state, Andrew thought he had never looked more beautiful; God, how he had _missed_ this man.

Justin hesitated; was this simply going from the flame into the _fire_? He needed to talk to someone _desperately,_ however, and Andrew had always been so easy to talk to. He bit his lip in indecision; he didn't understand how Andrew happened to be here at this moment, but maybe it was fate; he truly needed a friend to tell his worries to. He finally nodded, hoping earnestly that he was doing the right thing; hia mind was in an absolute turmoil at the moment. "Okay," he said softly. "I could use a sympathetic ear right now," he whispered, his eyes abruptly beginning to shine with unshed tears. He was _so _tired of all the sadness, all the frustration.

"Come on, then," Andrew told him softly, turning Justin around and placing a comforting hand around his shoulder. "My car's right down here," he told him. He was speaking calmly to Justin, but inside his heart was doing fucking flip-flops; _finally _he would have his chance to tell Justin how he felt.

Brian stared at the surreal scene playing out right before his eyes; he couldn't believe that this arrogant doctor who had been after his partner all along was not only here in Pittsburgh, but was speaking to Justin right _now_. This _HAD _to be much more than just a coincidence; Bradley had to have _planned_ this meeting. And from the looks of things, Justin wasn't exactly rebuffing his advances. He watched, stunned, as Bradley placed an arm around Justin's shoulders and willingly led him away. The razor-like pain stabbing through him at that moment was too much like another time when Justin had walked away with someone _else _at Babylon. He didn't think he could go through that agony again.

"Who _IS_ that?" Daphne questioned him, her mouth hanging open as she watched someone who was a stranger to her approach Justin and after a few minutes lead him away. She had never seen this man before in her life, and she thought Justin told her _everything_. Of course, that was BEFORE the accident. As she watched Justin conversing relatively easily with this other man, she decided maybe in truth she didn't know him that well anymore. She looked over concerned at Brian, whose face was radiating pain and fading hope as his eyes followed his partner walking away from him – maybe away from their _life_, too.

Brian sighed angrily. "It's the fucker that took care of Justin after his accident, the ER doctor in Harrisburg."

Daphne studied the smaller version of Brian walking away with Justin. "That's Dr. Bradley?" She had heard about him from Jennifer and knew he had not only treated Justin at the hospital but had also taken him in as a roommate afterward. She hadn't realized at the time, though, that this man apparently had more than a professional interest in her friend. Now, as she watched the man rubbing his hands on Justin's forearms and smiling at him, it was obvious he wanted to be more than just a _doctor_ to him.

Brian glared daggers at the retreating form. "Yeah," he hissed. "That's HIM." He could barely respond in a civil manner – he was too angry at the moment; angry not only at this interloper, but if he was being honest with himself, angry with _Justin_, also, for falling for this man's charms. He knew if his partner's memory was intact at the moment, he would have _never_ walked away with the man – and away from HIM.

Daphne waited impatiently for Brian to move – to DO something. "Well?" she asked him in disbelief. "Aren't you going to go _after _him?"

Brian stood there several seconds as if his feet were encased in cement before he sadly shook his head. "No, Daphne – I fucking _love_ him but I'm tired of running _AFTER him_." He watched his hopes receding the farther his partner walked away from him. "I…..I just can't _do_ it anymore," he whispered, defeated. "I thought I would never give up, but maybe it's time I accept reality. He's never going to remember what we _had_." He felt the tears beginning to appear in his eyes; before they had a chance to fall, he straightened his shoulders as he told her, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a club to re-open." He looked one last time at his partner's profile before he turned and walked purposely back into the club, leaving a disbelieving Daphne in his wake. He waited until the front door was firmly closed and he was safely inside alone before he leaned his head against the cold, steel door and mourned silently for what he had lost.


	44. Chapter 44:  Pain Therapy

Andrew glanced over at his friend, still a little amazed that he was actually walking alongside him. The feel of the man's warm skin under his hand, however, confirmed that he was. Until that precise moment, had hadn't quite realized just how much he had missed his former roommate; now that he was finally reunited with him, his heart was beating furiously with excitement and anticipation. He couldn't wait to take Justin somewhere quiet so they could talk privately and he could tell the other man just how he felt. And the fact the Justin was now living, at least temporarily, with his mother made him even more hopeful that his friend was finally out from under Kinney's control.

He was a little concerned, however, about how quiet Justin was being; since they had initially been reunited a short while ago, he had barely said anything else. He hoped that once they arrived at his rental car and gotten in, perhaps Justin would begin to open up to him about what was going on, and what had happened since they had said goodbye a few weeks ago. There was so much Andrew wanted to know about him, and in return, so much he wanted to say.

"Over here," Andrew told his friend softly, as he took his upper arm and gently led him over to a cherry red Mustang.

Justin noticed the flashy car's appearance and looked over at him questioningly. Andrew had always talked about how hard it was to survive by himself on a resident's salary, especially after his former roommate had moved out, so this seemed fairly extravagant for him.

Andrew smiled in understanding at Justin's silent question. "I _wish_," he said. "It's just a rental. Better enjoy it while you can, Mr. Taylor," he kidded him good naturedly. He noticed his friend smiling slightly as he nodded, but it seemed like a hollow type of smile, not the smile he had seen him show only rarely before. There was definitely something bothering his friend, and he was determined to learn what it was.

Justin silently swung the heavy passenger door open and climbed in as Andrew joined him behind the driver's seat. The sounds of the street traffic and bystanders became noticeably muted, allowing him to hear the sound of Justin's soft breathing in the quiet interior. Now that they were finally alone, he was able to take a closer look at his friend and couldn't help noticing the tired lines on his face and the tracks of previously-shed tears still slightly staining his cheeks. Whatever had just happened to his friend, he obviously hadn't been happy about it.

"Where are we going?" Justin asked him softly. He wrung his hands as if he were either upset or nervous; Andrew wasn't sure which.

"I thought we'd go back to my hotel room so we can talk in private," he told Justin, his heart beating fast at the prospect. "Is that okay with you?" Despite his fervent hope that the two of them could be more than just friends, he was going to take Justin back to the hotel room and do just that – _talk_. At least initially; his hope was that eventually Justin would return his feelings of attraction for him and they could be much more than friends. He could tell, however, that the blond was upset about something that had happened, and he did not want to add to his troubles; rather he hoped that he would be able to lighten his load somewhat by telling him how special he thought he was and how much he cared for him. Perhaps Justin wanted to begin a new chapter in his life and leave all the pain and sorrow associated with his memory loss behind him – at least he _hoped_ so.

Justin huffed out a ragged breath of air as he leaned his head against the cool glass of the vehicle and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered as he nodded slightly. Right now all he wanted to was to get away from this place – away from Brian, Daphne, and the ghost of Babylon, where he and Brian had experienced pleasure as well as pain, experiences that for the most part he had completely forgotten. At the moment, he didn't care _where_ he was as long as it was away from _here_.

Andrew glanced over at his friend, whose body was leaning toward the window; he could tell Justin's eyes were closed but his face was shadowed with pain. He took his hand off the steering wheel to reach over to Justin to comfort him, but he stopped just before he could feel the warm flesh. As much as he longed to touch him again, he sensed that Justin needed some space at the moment. There would be time later at the hotel room to hopefully determine what had happened to him and why he was so quiet and withdrawn.

His hotel room at the downtown Ritz was thankfully not far from there; he managed to successfully navigate the somewhat confusing maze of streets in short shrift and slowed the car to a stop in front of the hotel's valet station.

As he reached to unlatch his seatbelt, he observed Justin start a little as he realized they had stopped; he watched as he wiped his hand across his face to jolt the sleepiness aside before he slowly reached to free himself from the seatbelt and alight from the car when the valet opened the passenger door.

Getting out of the driver's side, Andrew walked around the car to join Justin on the sidewalk. He noticed his friend standing there, looking somewhat dazed at his surroundings, before he gently took his elbow to help guide him inside. _He looks like some fragile newborn deer or something_, Andrew thought sadly. "Come on," he softly urged his friend as they walked through the revolving doors of the hotel's opulent lobby.

Justin looked around, transfixed by all the bright lights and dark, polished rosewood of the front desk as Andrew continued to guide him toward the stainless steel elevator doors. He paused to punch the "up" button and stood next to the blond as they waited for their car, stealing an occasional, concerned glance at his friend, who remained strangely quiet. _What has hurt you so much, my friend?_ The ding signaling the impending arrival of the elevator car finally sounded as the doors swung open and the two of them found themselves thankfully alone.

"It's on the 14th floor," Andrew explained to the blond, not quite sure why he said that. It didn't really matter _where_ his room was – he guessed he just needed to try and make some polite conversation to help lighten Justin's mood, but it didn't seem to be helping. The silence in the elevator car on the way up was awkward, even for them, as Justin continued to simply stand there as if he were in a trance. This brooding, pensive man was definitely _not_ the vivacious, witty blond he had known before. Even when Justin was occasionally upset by his inability to remember his past and needed to be comforted, he had still at other times managed to carry on a fairly lively discussion with him over all types of subjects – his art, Andrew's work, the recipes he wanted to try out on him. Now it was like pulling teeth to get him to say more than a few words at a time.

The car finally slowed to a stop and the doors slid open onto a hallway carpeted with a plush, burgundy shag as he placed his hand lightly on Justin's middle back and guided him down the hallway to their right. He stopped at the very last door at the end and fit the plastic key card into the slot to open it. Holding the door open for Justin to enter, he flipped on the living area side table lamps as he followed Justin into the main area of the suite.

He watched as Justin tentatively looked around before his eyes settled on a pair of glass French doors that led to a private, outdoor balcony. He slowly walked over to look at the twinkling view of Pittsburgh's downtown skyline for several seconds before he reached to open the doors and swung them out to breathe in the cooling nighttime air.

Andrew followed closely behind, in time to hear the mournful sigh that escaped his friend's lips. He couldn't take it any longer as he walked over to stand directly behind the shorter man and place both hands on the slim, slightly drooping shoulders. "Justin," he began softly. "You're obviously upset. Please talk to me," he beseeched him. He was horrified a few seconds later to hear his friend crying softly and to feel his shoulders shaking slightly as a torrent of pent-up emotion came bursting forth from him like gushing water flowing from a dam. Andrew gently turned the other man around and enfolded him in a firm hug as his arms wrapped themselves around the other man's back in a comforting embrace. He felt Justin place his head against his chest and slowly place his hands on his back, also, as he continued to cry softly and felt the wetness of the blond's tears begin to soak through his shirt in short order.

Andrew soothingly stroked his friend's back as the two men stood embracing for several minutes, neither speaking, until Justin's crying gradually ebbed and his breathing slowly returned to a more normal pace.

As he finally broke away from Andrew's embrace, he moved his hands from behind his friend's back to wipe the tears from his face. "You must think I'm acting like some scared, fucking child," Justin told him, embarrassed, as he turned to place his hands on the metal, wrought-iron railing and face out onto the twinkling lights below.

"I don't think that at _all_," he could hear Andrew answer softly from behind him. "I think you're confused, you're upset, and you're angry at what's happened," he said. "No one could blame you for that, though, Justin – not after what you've been through."

Justin turned to face his friend. "What about _everyone else_, though, Andrew? My mom, my friends….._Brian_," he whispered. Brian most of all. The man had done nothing wrong but _LOVE _him, want to be with him, even agree to _start over_ if they had to. He had been nothing but supportive since he had found him in Harrisburg. And how did he pay him back? By telling him he wanted to be alone, he needed space, he needed time to think. _That's_ how he thanked him for what he had done the past few weeks? He shook his head in disgust; he didn't _deserve_ to be loved, not the way he is right now – the way he will _always_ be.

"Justin, I'm sure everyone understands how hard this has been on you," Andrew told him gently. "No one could blame you for being hurt and confused. This isn't some temporary disease that you can take a pill for and recover from. This is a serious _brain injury_."

"Yeah, I know," Justin told him a little sharply; he certainly didn't have to be told what it was. He had LIVED it for the past few weeks now. And he knew what it was _costing_ him, what it was costing _everyone_ who cared about him, especially Brian. "I know _exactly_ what it IS, Andrew. It's cost me my whole fucking LIFE, and the one man I loved."

Andrew pursed his lips to bite back the reply he desperately wanted to say – that Brian wasn't worthy of his love. But he knew that would not sit well with his friend – despite the fact that Justin could not remember much about his and Brian's relationship, he apparently still felt some jaded sense of obligation to the other man to try and restore their bond; hence the guilt he was now experiencing. But he had to convince Justin, for _both_ their sakes, that once something was broken, it couldn't be fixed – it was time to forge a new life and move on, hopefully with HIM.

"Justin…God knows you've tried to recover what you've lost; I know you saw Dr. Keller the other day," he told the blond, who looked over at him in surprise.

"How did you know THAT?" Justin asked him, a little suspiciously.

Andrew grimaced, trying to put the best slant on that statement. "He…..called me before you were due to come in to get the background information on your treatment in Harrisburg," he explained; after all, it WAS the truth. He just didn't tell him that Dr. Keller had also shared some information with HIM – not only Justin's unfortunate prognosis, but also his current whereabouts. "He wanted all your treatment results before he saw you."

Justin nodded, apparently somewhat mollified by the statement. "Well, he didn't tell me anything different than what you and everyone _else_ had been telling me – that I wasn't going to get my memory back." He picked up a medium-sized rock on the floor of the balcony and angrily threw it to the asphalt far below. "I am so fucking TIRED of seeing doctors and hearing the same old thing – that I'd just better _get used to it_, that it's gone and not coming back, that they don't know enough about the brain to be able to help me. How am I supposed to _move on _from HERE?" he cried in disgust, his hands balled into fists of frustration.

Andrew's heart went out to his friend over his lament of loss. He couldn't help what was in the past, but he COULD help him shape his _future_ – if he would only LET him. "I…I can't change what has happened, Justin….but I'd like to help you move on, if you would let me," he told his friend softly.

Justin turned to face him curiously. "And how do you propose to DO that, Andrew?"

"Justin – I know your inability to not remember is upsetting to you – it would be upsetting to _anyone_. But you STILL have this amazing talent with your art, and except for your memory loss, your body has healed from its external, physical injuries. You have an _amazing_ future ahead of you, Justin! And I'd like to take that journey WITH you," he said softly. "If you'd LET me."

"What are you _saying_, Andrew?" Justin asked him as the blue eyes gazed at him pointedly.

Andrew took a breath to gather his courage to be upfront and totally frank with this man; Michelle had told him it was time to be completely honest with this amazing artist who had captivated him from the start. "I…..I told you a long time ago that I was _attracted_ to you, Justin," he began. "But I wasn't totally _honest_ with you." He watched while Justin continued to stare at him intently as he took a steadying breath. _Time to be blunt here, Bradley, and let the cards fall where they may_. _It was TIME. _"I…I'm falling in LOVE with you, Justin," he admitted finally. "Totally and deeply _in_ _love_ with you. I think you are one of the most incredible men I have ever had the honor to meet and I would like nothing better than for us to get to know each other better – to be _partners_ eventually. I'd like for you to come back with me to Harrisburg – back to our apartment." Before Justin had a chance to respond, he marched ahead. "I know your mother is here in Pittsburgh and so are all your friends. I promise that as soon as my residency is over, if you want, we can move back here. I'll go wherever it will make you happy."

Justin's mouth fell open; he knew Andrew liked him, was attracted to him, but _in love with HIM?_ He wanted him to move back IN with him? His head felt like it was spinning – this was NOT what he had expected. "That's why you're HERE?" he asked his former roommate. Just when he thought things couldn't get any more complicated, now there was THIS.

Andrew nodded simply. "Yes…..I actually had a seminar here scheduled for this Thursday and Friday, but it was mainly just an excuse to find you and talk to you about how I felt," he told the other man honestly. The blond began to trail alongside the metal railing restlessly as Andrew continued to pour his heart out to him. "I couldn't get you out of my mind from the moment you left the apartment," he whispered to him, just barely being able to be understood over the rapidly croaking sounds of the crickets beginning to chirp in the ever-increasing darkness. "Justin…..I know I could make you happy – if you would only give us a _chance_. I don't CARE about your past – I care about YOU; about who you are NOW. I want to make sure you're happy for the rest of your life – for the _future_. Even with your memory loss after the accident, there were a lot of moments in the apartment in Harrisburg when you were actually _happy_. I want you to be that way all the time and I _know_ I could help you achieve that – if you'll LET me. Please, Justin." He wasn't above begging if it would get what he wanted – WHO he wanted: Justin.

Justin closed his eyes as his heart pounded from bewilderment and confusion. Just what did he _want?_ Or more importantly, what could he HAVE? A life with Andrew – a man who apparently cherished him and loved him, who wanted him to be happy; who would be willing to accept him as he WAS and not even care about what happened to him in the past. Or a life with _Brian_ – a man who also loved him dearly, who had been so diligent in trying to help him remember his past, and who had never left his side since their unexpected reunion. A man who, despite their apparently extremely sexual, sensual past, hadn't pushed him for more intimacy and who had almost sacrificed his very successful business to try and help him recover. "Andrew….Brian has done so much for me, almost even risked his _ad agency_ for me. I could never repay him what I owe."

Andrew pressed on determinedly. "But is what you feel _love_, Justin, or _obligation?_ Yeah, he's apparently been good to you," Andrew grudgingly admitted. "And yeah, he was your _partner_." Andrew felt the sour taste in his mouth as he tripped over that word. "But that was in the PAST – I'm offering you a future filled with love and commitment every day. Justin, if you would only let me, I would spend every day of our lives together making you _happy_. I want a partner who I can tell things to, come home to, and have picnics on the floor with," he told the other man, smiling tenderly.

Justin narrowed his forehead as another odd sense of déjà vu washed over him; why did that statement hit a nerve with him? It sounded so heavenly, so romantic; why, then, did he feel dirty and guilty all of a sudden? His head started to pound – this was all too much. He placed his hands at his temple as he scrunched up his face and closed his eyes tightly, suddenly feeling dizzy. "Justin?" he heard Andrew calling him as if from a distance.

He slowly opened his eyes as he felt the other man's hands on his shoulders, clutching him in concern. "What _is _it?" he asked him, his green eyes peering at him worriedly.

Justin firmly disengaged from the other man's hold and shook his head as he began to back away from the other man. "I…I can't deal with this right now, Andrew. I can't DO this. I don't know WHAT I want. But I know I can't handle this right now."

Andrew began to walk slowly toward him; he HAD to make Justin understand how much he meant to him, and he much he wanted to make him happy. "Justin….._please_. Won't you at least try to give us a _chance_? I LOVE you – I only want to make you happy. I KNOW I can," he pleaded. He knew he was starting to almost turn into a whimpering, lovesick puppy over this man, but he didn't CARE. He HAD to make him understand. "Justin….stay with me. Come back with me to Harrisburg, and I promise I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

Justin bit back another round of tears tempting to fall from his eyes again; he couldn't take any more emotional turmoil right now and his head was pounding from this latest heartfelt revelation from Andrew, the man he had befriended and had depended upon for so much right after the accident. How could he break this man's heart, too? But just what DID he want? He was SO tired – SO tired of trying to remember what had happened to him and the past he couldn't recall – the love he should feel for Brian, for his mother, for his friends. SO tired.

"I…..I'm _sorry_, Andrew," he told the other man softly, his eyes shining with his unshed tears. "I…..can't do this," he told him as he turned to re-enter the doctor's lavish suite and stride toward the door. "I have to go," he decided as he started to turn the knob to leave.

Andrew was frantic over Justin's hurry to leave and worried about his emotional state. "Justin! Don't leave yet. I promise I won't push you…..please stay a little longer." He was extremely disappointed over his failure to convince Justin to stay with him permanently, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. He desperately wanted the other man to at least stay a while longer in an attempt to convince him the two of them belonged together. He could feel his chances slowly slipping away as he watched Justin preparing to leave, perhaps for good.

"Justin – _please!"_ Andrew was practically begging now; he couldn't bear for this man to leave him again. As Justin started to turn the door knob, Andrew placed his hand over his; he was startled when the blond roughly pushed backward against his body and caused him to stagger backward. He barely managed to catch himself from falling by grabbing the open, louvered utility closet door nearby.

Justin's mouth fell open as he realized with horror what he had done, how he had reacted toward the man who had helped him to recover after his accident. _What was WRONG with him?_ "I'm…sorry, Andrew…_so sorry_," he cried before he wrenched the door open and tumbled out. Andrew's cries for him to come back finally faded from his ears as he found the nearby door indicating the location of the stairs; not waiting for the elevator, he flung the door open and began to run as fast as he could down the multiple levels of steps, his tears now running unabated down his cheeks as he mourned the loss of his friend, his past, _Brian_. He had no idea where he was going – he just kept furiously running down the steps, away from the pressure of Andrew's entreaty, away from his lost memories, away from his fucking LIFE.

_

* * *

__Brian's Loft – 2:00 a.m._

Brian sat hunched down over the couch, a half-empty bottle of Beam in his hand, his glassy eyes not focusing on anything in particular. He had arrived from his club about an hour ago, early by most standards, still clothed in his blue jeans and sleeveless black button-down shirt. He was so tired at the moment, it was all he could do to take his shoes and socks off and unbutton the lone button on his jeans. He thought back to the evening's results at the club. Thanks to a major advertising campaign drummed up by yours truly, along with heavy marketing of it by newspapers, radio, and printed posters displayed at gay-frequented shops and restaurants, the grand opening of the new Pulse dance club had been a giant, rousing, big, fat, fucking success. Hooray.

So why did he feel so empty? So unhappy? So fucking lonely? Of course, he already knew the answer to that question – it was because the man he loved wasn't with him – _Justin_. For at least the hundredth time tonight, he wondered where he was. He had called Jennifer, trying his best to be nonchalant when he had asked her if she had seen her son lately, and he had simply managed in not only worrying himself when she said she hadn't seen him, but also worrying HER now, too. He hadn't returned to his mom's condo, the Liberty Diner, Daphne's, or any of the other haunts that he had shown his partner during their recent motor coach tour. He had even called the caretaker who took care of the horses at Britin to make sure Justin hadn't somehow found his way over there, and he was told the man hadn't seen him. So just where the fuck _was_ he?

He refused to even consider the one possibility that filled him with the most dread – had that arrogant doctor, Bradley, somehow managed to convince Justin to run off with him back to Harrisburg? In the fragile state his partner was in, he supposed _anything_ was possible, even THAT option. But he refused to believe that even in Justin's confused, unhappy state, he still would leave with that man. Except for a couple of week of living together, the two did not have any past together, certainly not the past that the two of them had shared. Did that somehow, however, make that idea more _attractive_ to his partner?

Brian sighed to himself. Yes, even now he couldn't deny it – he STILL thought of Justin as his _partner._ He still LOVED the man, damn it. Justin could be downright annoying as hell right now, and he was getting so tired of trying to restore what they had lost, and so tired of trying to reassure Justin of what he meant for him, but he just couldn't give up. There was too much at stake. Yes, he had told Daphne he was tired of chasing after him; but did he really have any other _choice?_ He had never been in love before, and he knew deep down Justin was IT. He was his SOULMATE. There would never be another for him. If he couldn't have Justin's love, he would never allow any other man to touch his heart ever again. He eyed the lukewarm, amber liquid in the bottle of Beam in his hand; whatever happened, it wasn't going to help him to drown in yet another bottle of bourbon. He raked a long-fingered hand through his mussed hair and jumped as he heard a loud pounding on his door. _What the fuck?_ He was going to have to have a chat with his landlord over how people kept managing to enter the front door without authorization as he heard his persistent, would-be visitor continuing to pound relentlessly on the steel door.

"Fuck OFF!" he yelled in extreme aggravation; he was physically and mentally exhausted from the events of the past day. The last thing he wanted was to entertain some lovelorn trick or drunken bum at his doorstep. "Go AWAY!" The frantic pounding on the door, unfortunately, continued. _Was this person DEAF or did they just have a fucking DEATH WISH?_ He finally slammed the bottle of Beam down on the wooden floor and rose to stomp over to the door. "What the FUCK do you WANT?" he snapped loudly as he irritatingly slid the door aside violently to find his late-night caller standing there.

He was shocked to the core as he opened the door to find Justin. His face was red and flushed, streaked with wet tears; his shirt was partially unbuttoned and the tail was sticking half-in, half-out of his jeans. His hair was tousled in all directions and he was hiccupping from the sobs that escaped his throat.

All thoughts of giving up on restoring their relationship and talks of bravado about accepting reality instantly melted away as Justin practically fell into his outstretched arms and tightly wound his arms around his waist. "Justin," Brian murmured, alarmed, as the blond burrowed into him. "What _happened_? Did that fucker_ hurt you_?" he demanded, his heart dropping at the thought of someone harming his partner. "Justin….._DID HE?"_ _If you've DONE something to him, Bradley, you're a fucking DEAD MAN. "Justin….TELL ME,"_ Brian pressed him urgently. "Did that Bradley _HURT_ you?" He grabbed Justin by the shoulders, gently but firmly, almost forcefully having to pull Justin back enough to look him in the eye. As Justin continued to sniff and hiccup with his soft sobs, Brian took his right hand and took his partner's chin to force the blond to look up at him. "Justin…..FUCKING ANSWER ME," he growled adamantly.

Justin closed his eyes as if in pain but Brian breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the blond shake his head. "No…" he heard his partner whisper. "No," he assured him.

Brian, then, was puzzled. Just what had gotten him so upset? "Then what _is it_?" he asked him tenderly, still worried. Justin's emotional distraught state was extremely worrisome; he had NEVER seen his partner this upset before. "What's _wrong_?" _Maybe he had remembered something terrible….the bashing? My cancer?_ "Did you _remember_ something?" he asked him, concerned.

That question for some reason simply served to make Justin even more upset; he shook his head almost violently as the tears began to flow even more freely down his face. "No," he choked, as his hands now began to wind themselves up around Brian's neck. _Nothing important..._ "I don't _want _to remember," he said, his voice hitching in between his sobs.

"What are you _talking_ about, Justin?" Brian pressed him. _He didn't WANT to remember?_

"No," Justin repeated just barely above a whisper, but his voice had taken on a pleading tone. He began to pull Brian's head down to his as he begged him, "Make me _forget, _Brian." He brushed his lips against the brunet's, producing a moan of desire. "Make me _forget_," he repeated longingly, as he briefly allowed Brian to come up for air only to crash his lips down on Brian's again. Brian could feel Justin's hands begin to frantically unbutton his shirt now as he began to nuzzle Brian's neck to nip and lick at his tender flesh.

"Justin…_stop_," Brian whispered breathlessly, as he reached to grasp his partner's slender hands in his own. "You don't want to do this," he told him. God, he wanted him _so badly, so much_. It had been SO long. He could feel his body instantly beginning to respond to his partner's achingly familiar touch. If he didn't convince him to stop immediately, it would be too late, because he wanted him more than he ever did. He had _dreamed_ of this moment for so long now.

"Justin….." he began again, as Justin ignored his attempts at restoring sensibility. He shook his head as he pulled Brian's hands away from his and finished unbuttoning the last of the shirt's buttons; he used this fact to his advantage as his hands immediately begin to stroke Brian's chest, settling on the brunet's now rigid nipples. Justin's tongue come out to begin licking a trail from the side of Brian's face down his clavicle and then onto his chest as his hands began to unzip Brian's jeans.

Brian moaned as his hands travelled now to plant themselves in Justin's hair to fondle it; he was helpless to prevent what was going to happen here. His willpower was totally depleted now; he had patiently waited for weeks for the chance to make love to his partner again, and although he had told Justin he would not make love to him in their bed again until he saw the same look of love in his eyes that he had _always_ carried for HIM, he just couldn't hold out any longer. He _wanted him_, he NEEDED him. God, he had to HAVE this man. "Justin….." he whispered reverently. He hated himself for using Justin this way, but he just couldn't help it.

As soon as Justin had managed to successfully pull Brian's jeans and briefs down his long legs, his mouth made a beeline for his partner's now fully erect and leaking cock. Brian moaned in pleasurable, exquisite release as he _finally _felt his partner's experienced, well-practiced lips surround his shaft and begin to suckle him. He felt Justin's hands wrap themselves around his thighs as he held tightly on to the blond's shoulders for dear life. The old, familiar feeling, the pent-up emotion held in check for so long, was threatening to quickly overwhelm him and he knew he wouldn't last long at all at Justin continued to play him so expertly. He could feel Justin's teeth lightly rake across the length of his cock and his tongue lick the underside just seconds before he came with a heart wrenching shout and an explosive climax like nothing he had ever felt before, even with this man. "Oh, God!" he cried out as his body continued to shudder form the mind blowing precision of his partner's ministrations; his knees sagged from the aftermath of the emotional onslaught Justin had so masterfully produced. If it hadn't been for Justin catching his lower body to keep him propped up, he would have simply fallen down to the floor just like a rubber, spineless jellyfish.

Justin wasn't finished with his _therapy_, however; he slowly climbed up Brian's now thoroughly-sated body as his mouth continued to trail light kisses higher and higher – over his thighs, his stomach, and up over his chest before crashing down once again on the brunet's mouth as his tongue demanded and was granted entrance; he tightly held Brian's head in his heads as he angled his own head for a deeper penetration. The heady feelings he was engendering in Brian almost made the brunet dizzy with desire as he felt his cock began to unbelievably harden once more at his partner's almost violent sensual assault. "Brian….._fuck me_," Justin growled seductively, as he finally had to come up for breath himself from their lengthy kiss. He began to pull Brian by the arms toward their bed. "Fuck me, Brian," he repeated almost desperately as he began to again nuzzle Brian's neck and chest with his lips as he murmured against his quivering skin.

"God, Justin," Brian cried out as the emotions welled up in him and he felt himself becoming extremely aroused simply by his partner's sexy voice. He knew Justin was _using_ him in some ironic way to dull his pain; any other time, he would have been ecstatic to fuck his partner senseless all night long. So why did this someone feel so _wrong_? How could making love to his partner EVER be _wrong_? Damn it – didn't he _want it? _Didn't JUSTINwant it as well? Yes – but for what _reason_? "Justin….." he tried one more time to make his partner see reason before he was inexplicably, irretrievably lost, drowning in a sensory flood of pent-up emotions.

"Shh," Justin cooed. "Make love to me, Brian. Make me _forget_. _Please…," _he begged as he broke free from their embrace and began to unbutton his own jeans. Brian couldn't tear his eyes away from the slender body he knew and loved so well as Justin quickly lifted his arms and roughly yanked his long-sleeved tee shirt over his head to expose the creamy, lightly-fuzzed pale skin of his chest. He quickly stepped out of his shoes and bent over to pull his jeans and briefs down his legs to finally stand completely nude in front of the lust-filled, darkening hazel eyes of his partner, whose breath hitched in his throat at the familiar and beautiful, but so-forbidden sight up until now. Justin smiled a little, almost shyly, at his partner's almost immediate response to his body as he sat down on the edge of their bed. He hurriedly scooted back on his elbows and hands until his frame was toward the front of the bed. Taking one last long look at the brunet, he finally lay down completely on the bed, his legs raised with his feet planted firmly at the bed's end. "Fuck me, Brian," he growled as his spread his legs apart wantonly.

This was too much for a man who had spent the last several years worshiping the blond's familiar, tantalizing body over and over again and who had now been deprived of that pleasure for so, so long now. As Justin's pleading eyes shined through his tears and his lips quivered in anguish, Brian let out a loud groan of defeat and practically fell on top of the blond. As his lips ravaged his partner's, and his hands began to roam possessively over the soft, pale skin, his last sane thought was of the battle for sanity and restraint that he now knew he had unequivocally lost.


	45. Chapter 45: Love  The Ultimate Cure

Even though Brian had Justin practically pinned to the mattress with most of his weight, Justin wouldn't lie still; his hands were continually, assertively roaming all over Brian's back , his ass, and his shoulders as if he were trying to re-familiarize himself with the contours of Brian's body; his touch, however, was anything BUT gentle – it was frantic and primal in its intensity and aggressiveness. As their lips crashed together Brian could actually taste the tell-tale, coppery tang of blood in his mouth where Justin's almost violent kisses were bruising him, but he didn't care – his body was so tightly wound up over this unexpected development that his mind failed to take command of the moment as pent-up emotions and numerous pleasurable sensations assailed him.

He could hear Justin growling at him as the blond desperately placed kisses on his neck and all over his face; Brian gasped as he felt the sharp sting of Justin's teeth biting down hard on his earlobe. This was not going to be a tender lovemaking session between the two of them; if Justin had his way, it was going to be a fast and brutal fuck. Any other time, Brian would have been turned on immensely by this dominant, aggressive, and forceful side of his partner; however, he knew Justin wasn't acting that way because of some playful attempt at playing master and servant. His partner _needed_ this. But did he really want to take Justin this way? Did he really want to try and fuck him so hard that he would temporarily, at least, forget his problems, his frustration, and his pain? Was it even _wise? _

"Justin….." Brian tried to get his partner's attention by pushing his head to the side and temporarily interrupting their kisses. "Justin….." He groaned as he watched his partner take his hands and turn his head back toward his gaze as he braced his head still. He started to press down to him for another heart stopping kiss but Brian turned his head away again before his partner had a chance to follow through. "Justin…" he tried once more. "I don't think this is such a good idea…."

But Justin wasn't to be stopped and truth be told, Brian's body was quickly rebelling against his wish for common sense. Weeks of deprivation, and a lack of intimacy with the man whose body he craved and physically ached for was quickly sweeping away any attempt he was making to take control of this situation. Deep down, he knew he had lost any semblance of control the moment Justin had reached out to him at the loft's door. He didn't stand any chance against _this _man's touch, his voice, his needs.

"I _want_ you so much," Justin huskily growled as he abruptly rolled the two of them together so they were now facing each other on the bed, side to side. Emboldened by his temporary stay from captivity, Justin took advantage of the situation to twine his outermost leg between Brian's and roughly grind their cocks together. "_Fuck me_, Brian. Please fuck me….Make me forget…...Take me NOW!" he snarled, leaving no question what he wanted. He began to twist and wriggle his body tantalizingly as Brian moaned in exquisite torment at the sensations coursing through him.

Justin's continued to rain sloppy, tongue-driven kisses and wet licks all over Brian's chest as his hands continued to re-explore the taut, lean abdomen. His hand snaked down between their bodies to boldly grab Brian's cock and begin running his hand up and down the silky but hard-as-steel shaft. Justin continued to murmur urgent demands of almost angry encouragement at his partner as Brian's willpower and sense of decency (he didn't have time to note the extreme irony of that thought) began to quickly dissipate as his body was caught in a vortex of extreme, excruciating pleasure. He knew if he didn't do something quickly, if he didn't take Justin the way he wanted soon, he would explode once again all over his partner's belly. He knew, however, that that wasn't what Justin was demanding, not what his own body was longing for, what it had BEEN longing for ever since they had been reunited.

Weeks of sexual tension and unfulfilled cravings finally erupted as Brian growled at his slender partner and roughly rolled them over so the blond was lying beneath him. Visions of a previous time in New York City in that hotel room as they fucked frantically, Justin bent almost in half, appeared in his head as his hand blindly reached over for lube and a condom.

Justin, however, wasn't waiting. "I don't fucking _care_!" Justin cried out roughly. "Take me _raw!_ Do it!" He reached down to possessively take Brian's cock in his right hand to guide it toward his pulsating, throbbing, quickly darkening hole.

"Oh, God, Justin, I just can't fucking _DO THAT!" _Brian breathlessly declared; it was all he could do right now to think straight with Justin's hand, his body, his voice seductively bringing him close to the edge. He had dreamed of this moment – of feeling Justin beneath him without any barriers – but NOT in this way, not while his partner was vulnerable and in so much emotional pain.

"Yes, you can, DAMN it! DO IT, damn you! TAKE ME!" Justin tightly wrapped his legs around Brian's waist in a virtual vise and snaked his hands around Brian's back as he roughly demanded compliance and indicated in no uncertain terms to his partner that he wasn't going to change his mind.

"Oh, God, Justin!" he cried again, torn between the almost unbearable intensity thrumming throughout his entire body and his head trying to tell him this was a terrible idea. His head lost to his physical demands, however, as Justin locked his hands behind Brian and shoved him hard down onto his own body.

As Brian's cock pushed tentatively into his partner's tight entrance, his heart beat rapidly as if it might come out of his chest. The sensation of Justin's body tightly surrounding his cock as he pushed in further created a mind blowing, incredible sensation such that he had ever felt before, even with this man that he worshipped and adored; he moaned loudly as he felt the throbbing, hot cavern enveloping him possessively as he finally plunged in deeper and deeper, almost against his will.

He almost pulled back out at Justin's cry of pain before he heard his partner's raspy voice. "Harder!" Justin harshly shouted. "Fuck me _deeper_, damn it!" he demanded as he began to undulate his body up and down in time with Brian's frantic thrusting. Brian closed his eyes; the sheer feeling of being inside his partner, unfettered by the ever-present latex, was more than he could have ever imagined; he could feel every curve and every bump of the hot, wet, narrow and silky path as he continued to ram into the slender body. His mind was trying to tell him this was wrong – he didn't want to hurt Justin or use him this way, but he knew he couldn't stop right now if he _tried_ to as he began to push in and out almost as if he were in a trance. He could hear Justin's grunts as his balls slapped against his body; he blindly reached out to locate his partner's smaller hands to grasp them tightly and intertwine his long fingers in his own as they continued to move rapidly up and down toward what would no doubt be the most incredible, indescribable experience of their relationship.

Justin's body moved in perfect rhythm with Brian's as the brunet continued to pound mercilessly into him; as his slender body was assaulted with the unbelievable sensations of pain rapidly turning into mind-blowing pleasure, he felt as if he were looking into a camera, his thoughts unexpectedly tumbling out as if they had been finally freed from captivity:

_I like Cheerios better…._

_When can I see you again?...You can see me in your dreams…._

_I'm on to you..._

_I was hoping you would find me first…_

_I wish I could remember….I wish I could FORGET…._

_Come closer...Oh that's so profound...….mind if I write it DOWN?...That was IMPORTANT...….So's THIS…._

_It's YOUR call where you want to be…..._

_It would be a pleasure to work under you….SIR….._

_Sorry…..That's my 11:00...…_

_He wanted me to apologize to HIM…..._

_Some asshole told me that sometimes you have to sacrifice everything for what you believe in…... _

_I thought we were in a relationship…We are…..._

_How could you think I would LEAVE you? I thought we had a commitment...…_

_It's supposed to rekindle the fire in your lifegate….._

_Let's just say that God gave me a second chance, and I don't want to blow it. But you feel FREE to…_

_So what do you say, Mr. Taylor? Should I make room in my drawers for your drawers?... _

_I thought you were never coming back…I mean, why WOULD you?...I can't imagine…..._

_Did you hear that, rubber ducky? He said _COUPLE_…..._

_I was so fucking scared…..I LOVE you...…._

_Did you hear what I said?...Yes, you told me that you loved me…...Then why don't you marry me?..._

_It's for my prince…._

_You really do mean it….I've never meant anything more….._

_You look…..BEAUTIFUL….._

_You did it…..You became the best homosexual you could possibly be….._

_You didn't return them?...No, I didn't return them…_

_I'm surprised with your long legs you could even FIT…._

_Why, Sunshine, you never complained about how I fit…_

_I've been waiting for this day for a long time…_

As he heard Brian cry out, emotionally and physically spent from his climax, it was as if a bright light had suddenly turned on in Justin's head and gone supernova. All the missing pieces, all the pent-up thoughts he could never seem to find that had been hidden inside, were finally released from captivity and his heart sang at the realization; the epiphany of reality that this man, this special, special man that he loved deeply and who had stood by him for the past few weeks, was still here with him and still loved him, glowed within like a beacon of strength. Only now he could realize the depth of their commitment, the power of their love. The pain, grief and overwhelming frustration he had felt all this time was abruptly washed away and replaced by a feeling of soothing, familiar _peace_. As his body shuddered and exploded in its own sensual release, he cried out now not only from the intensity of their physical union but most of all from the feeling of emotional freedom to which he had thankfully, finally been gifted with.

Finally, totally at rest with his place in Brian's life and remembering where his heart finally belonged – firmly and indelibly with this incredibly beautiful man, inside and out , he collapsed under Brian's sheltering embrace. Despite his urgent desire to tell his partner that he had _remembered_ – he remembered it ALL – his body and mind were so exhausted from the day's events he couldn't keep his eyes open. The last thought he had before he felt Brian collapsing on top of him above was how thankful he was for this man's love as he closed his eyes reluctantly in sated, spent slumber.

Brian's chest heaved with the physical and emotional sensations that still coursed, post-climax, through his body, which still thrummed with the explosive aftermath of their fucking. He reluctantly pulled out of Justin after several seconds before he reached over to roll his lover into a side position and encase him in a cocoon of protective warmth and love. He stared for several minutes at his partner's glistening body, lovingly memorizing each angle and detail as he reached over to push a patch of damp hair back from the pale forehead. His eyes struggled to stay open before he eventually fell asleep to the sound of Justin's soft breathing and the feeling of cool, airy caresses on his still sweaty and heated chest.

* * *

_Brian's Loft – 8:00 am._

Brian shifted somewhat uncomfortably in the bed as he felt a cramp in his lower leg; as he slowly opened his eyes he was almost blinded by the bright sunlight shining through the opened curtains of the loft's windows. He raised his head just briefly to glance at the alarm clock which indicated it was still fairly early. As he turned back around, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of his partner's body lying peacefully on the other side of their bed. Justin was lying on his back, one hand on his pale, smooth chest and the other placed above his head on the pillow. His pink lips were slightly parted as a soft wisp of air escaped with each regular breath, and his hair was spiky and tousled from sleep. The lower part of his body was thankfully disguised with the light blue sateen sheet, or Brian would have not been able to resist running his hands up and down the entire length of the body he knew so well. Lying there with his face relaxed in sleep and his body almost glowing from the sunlight streaming in, Brian thought Justin had never looked so beautiful.

As he continued to stare at his partner, his face contorted in pain as he recalled the events of last night. Even if he could have managed to convince himself that he had simply imagined what had happened, his physical condition would have instantly betrayed him. His sore muscles, bruised, cracked lips and the come still sticking to his body could not be pushed aside as a figment of his active imagination.

As he continued to stare at the man he loved so deeply and who he had long ago surrendered his heart to, he was filled with a profound sense of disgust and a sense of betrayal. _What had he DONE?_ Last night he had let Justin's hurt and pain and his own damn body's physical needs override his common sense. All along he had told Justin they wouldn't make love again in their bed until he could see _that look_ in his lover's eyes once more and know that Justin felt as deeply about him as he did about his partner. He had stayed so strong – for _both_ of them – all this time, and now he let one night of weakness destroy everything. How could he have let this _happen_? And what would Justin think when he woke up and discovered that he had taken advantage of his vulnerability simply to quench his own sordid _desires_? Not only that, against his better judgment, he had fucked Justin _raw_. No lube, no condom, not even any fucking saliva or precum. He had rammed into him mercilessly without any thought of the consequences.

Now in the glare of the morning's light he wasn't filled with a sense of accomplishment or satisfaction over what the two of them had done; instead, he will filled with fear and dread. Fear for what Justin would think of him once he had awakened and recalled the events of last night, and dread over what he might have done to their relationship. How could Justin trust him again after he had taken advantage of him? He felt the bile rapidly rising in his throat as he slipped softly from their warm bed and rushed over to the bathroom just in time to vomit in the toilet.

His stomach's contents empty a few minutes later, he pushed a wet, cool washcloth to his face as he peered into the mirror to notice a tired, exhausted and guilty-looking man staring back at him. He shook his head in contempt. That was it; he could no longer be trusted around his partner. Justin needed someone to talk to, to sort through his tortured soul, to help him move on with his life, not be stuck in perpetual limbo with his former partner. He should have never let him back into the loft last night; he should have sent him straight back to his mother and told her he needed counseling to try and hopefully allow him to accept his condition for what it was and learn how to deal with the rest of his future – a future that would be better without HIS interference.

Returning to the bedroom several minutes later after a quick shower, he quietly searched through his closet for some clothes and slipped them on. He walked softly over to his lover's side of their bed and stared down at the blond vision lying there so peacefully, his face free of the worry lines that had been so prevalent these past few weeks. He bent over to brush his lips over his partner's forehead before he took one last, lingering look at the man he loved more than life itself and quietly crept out of the loft.

_

* * *

_

Brian's Loft – Two Hours Later

Justin stretched languorously on the bed, his arms reaching above his head in an attempt to eliminate the stiffness in them. He smiled as he recalled last night's momentous events, from the exquisite feel of Brian's body covering his to the incredible, almost primal sensation of his partner fucking him raw – _raw!_ And then the greatest event of all – his sudden recollection of his past memories. All those wonderful, incredible years with the man who had captivated him from the first day they had met and had proceeded to steal his heart irrevocably forever; memories of the man he had been rushing to be reunited with before that terrible accident had torn them apart and stolen his memories. Now, however, that was all behind them. He remembered _everything_. The thought of that fact filled him with an extreme feeling of fulfillment and joy.

Now all that remained was to tell Brian the fantastic news the two of them had anxiously been anticipating since the first second they had been reunited. He looked over at his partner's customary place in their bed and noticed it was empty. _Where was he?_ He listened intently for sounds of the shower running or coffee brewing but the loft was almost eerily silent. "Brian?" he called out softly, waiting eagerly for his partner to respond. He couldn't wait to tell him how much he loved him, how forever grateful he would be for him standing by him during this terribly difficult time. He couldn't wait for them to make love again – over and over and over. He wouldn't let the man out of his sight for at least a week! "Brian!" he called out more forcefully. Where _was_ the man? He sighed; leave it to his partner to disappear just when he had the most momentous, exciting news of their lives to tell him. He finally huffed in disappointment and frustration as he pulled the covers back from his lower body and swung his legs around to place them on the cold floor. He winced as he stood up and felt the sharp, searing pain in his ass from the result of his and Brian's frenzied bout of fucking last night. His face flushed, however, as the sensations flooded his mind at the thought of what it had felt like to have Brian inside him with absolutely NOTHING else between them. He had been waiting so long for that moment; _both_ of them had. They had spoken about it several times before Justin had finally made the decision to come home for good and they were both eagerly anticipating their first time together with no barriers between them. Their much-anticipated first time hadn't quite happened the way either of them would have liked; but all the same, it had produced a fantastic result. He smiled as he realized that he COULD remember their previous discussions now. _He could REMEMBER every detail now – ALL of it._ "Brian, where ARE you?" he asked aloud. He HAD to find him, to tell him, to BE with him.

He rushed around and grabbed the nearest clothes he could find as he jrammed his feet into his sneakers. Hurrying out to the living room area, he picked up the portable phone and dialed his partner's number, cursing out loud when it went directly to Brian's voicemail. "Damn it, Brian…..where did you run _OFF_ to?" He slammed the phone down; he didn't want to leave a message about this – it was too important. He wanted to see his partner's beautiful face when he told him the news. Maybe Kinnetik? He reached again for the phone and dialed the now-familiar number. He heard a well-known voice but unfortunately it wasn't the one he was hoping to hear. "Cynthia…..It's Justin. I'm looking for Brian – do you know where he is?"

Cynthia couldn't help noticing a strange, undecipherable tone to Justin's voice, kind of high-pitched, either due to excitement or trepidation? "Hi, Justin…..How _are_ you?" she asked, concerned. This was the first time she had actually spoken to him since Brian had told her the incredible news.

"I'm fine," she heard Justin tell her firmly. "But I really need to speak to Brian. Is he there?"

Cynthia could hear the anxiety in his voice; she only hoped something else hadn't happened to him. "Uh….No, Justin, I'm sorry. I was actually expecting him in earlier for an appointment with the art department to go over some layouts, but he didn't show up; that's a little unusual for him – he normally calls when he's running late. Is there something you want me to tell him when he gets here?"

_Damn it, Brian…..Where ARE you?_ _The most wonderful news of our lives and you're nowhere to be found_. "Uh, no, thanks, Cynthia," he told his partner's assistant. "If he _does_ come in, though, will you tell him I need to see him in person? It's _urgent_."

Cynthia didn't like the sound of that. "Are you _sure_ you're all right, Justin? Can I call someone _else_ for you? Your mom, for instance?" She certainly didn't want to be responsible for possibly ignoring Brian's partner if he was having additional problems of some kind; besides, Brian would fucking _kill _her if she let something else happen to his partner.

Despite his urgent need to see Brian, Justin smiled at her motherly inquiry. "No, Cynthia, really, I'm fine." _MORE than fine_. "I just really need to see him, okay?"

"Okay, sure, I'll tell him," she responded. If she didn't know better, she would almost think Justin sounded _happy_ about something. "Take care," she told him, before they ended their conversation. She made a mental note to quiz her boss later about what Justin wanted before she returned to her own work.

Justin hung up the phone in frustration. His body was wired up from the events of last night and he just couldn't wait there, hoping that Brian might walk back in; he had to FIND him – NOW. Making up his mind, he grabbed his jacket lying over a nearby chair and rushed toward the door, determination etched on his face. Where could the man _be?_

_

* * *

_

Same Time – Jennifer's Condo

"Brian?" Jennifer stared at the haggard-looking man standing in front of her. She had noticed that Brian's haunted, empty look had thankfully disappeared once Justin had returned with him to Pittsburgh a few weeks ago. But looking at the man standing in front of her, she was shocked by the similarities to his previous appearance; his normally handsome, chiseled face was etched with worry lines and he barely seemed to be able to meet her gaze. Her heart dropped in fear that something else had happened to her son. Ever since Brian had called her last night to inquire if she knew where Justin was, she had been worried about his whereabouts; now Brian was showing up on her doorstep looking like death warmed over. She winced at the use of that image as she asked breathlessly, "Is it Justin? Has something happened to him?"

"He's all right," Brian hurried to reassure her; he cursed inwardly at himself for worrying Jennifer even more. He should have realized his unexpected appearance would have naturally frightened her after he had called her last night looking for her son. "I'm…..sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. He's okay…..He's over at the loft sleeping."

She frowned; Justin was over at Brian's loft _alone_? Since Justin had come back, Brian had practically plastered himself to her son's side, at least until Justin had decided he needed some space from his partner to think about his future. Now Justin had somehow wound up back at Brian's loft and he had left him alone to come over _here_? None of that made any sense at all to her. "Brian…..what's _going_ on?" she asked him warily. "Why is he over there and you're over _here_?"

Brian sighed; he should have known this would raise immediate questions. "Can I come in?" he asked her. He really didn't want to discuss this in front of her neighbors and he really needed to sit down; it was going to be hard enough to explain himself as it was.

Jennifer turned to the side to allow him entrance. "Of course…..come in," she invited him. "Would you like some coffee? I have some already made," she explained. She motioned for Brian to sit down on the couch as she walked over to the coffeemaker.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," Brian told her as he slowly sat down. He could use something to call his nerves; Beam and poppers came to mind, but for now, he supposed caffeine would have to do.

Jennifer glanced over at her son's partner as he waited, fidgety, hands in his lap, for her to walk over with the coffee. Something was definitely bothering him; just the fact that he was here and her son was at his loft was enough to make her worried, although she _was_ relieved that Justin apparently was all right for now. Just what was going on?

"Thanks," Brian murmured as Jennifer nodded and handed him a mug of coffee; he took a large sip as she sat down on the couch to face him with her own mug. After a few seconds of waiting for the man to speak, she couldn't stand it any longer. "Brian, what exactly is going _on_ here? Why are you here while Justin's over at your _loft_? What aren't you telling me?" she asked him pointedly. She watched as her son's partner actually looked embarrassed; it was a look she had seldom, if ever seen on this man's face.

He shook his head, finding it suddenly difficult to talk about this subject. Maybe it was because he thought if he didn't say it aloud, it wouldn't need to happen. But he knew after the events of last night that he had to face facts – he couldn't help Justin any longer. He needed more help than he could give him. He had to find a way to love Justin enough to let him go and let someone more qualified help him. He had to let Justin move on with his life – _alone_. _Without him_. He closed his eyes as the pain washed over him before he sucked in a ragged breath and let it out. "Jennifer…..I've finally realized I can't help Justin with what he needs. He's so…..confused and frustrated. He feels so fucking guilty over his inability to remember what we've had that it's tearing him apart. I…..he needs help. _Professional help_. Help that I'm not qualified to give him."

Jennifer's eyes filled with tears over the sorrow written all over Brian's face. She had never thought she would hear him giving up, not after all the time he had steadfastly maintained that he could help Justin persevere through all this. Now, however, it appeared he had finally had to face the inevitable; that her son, the man he loved with all his heart, wasn't going to remember their previous life together. That he wasn't going to return the deep love that Brian still felt for him. She knew what a tremendous effort it must have taken for Brian to finally give up and admit he couldn't help Justin any further, but it also proved to her just how much he still loved her son. "Brian…" she whispered softly. "I'm…so sorry."

He nodded, suddenly unable to speak. "Me too," he finally replied quietly. He huffed out a long breath of acceptance and sadness before he stood up. "I….think it might be better if you go over to the loft and get him," he told her. He just couldn't face his partner again – it would be way too painful. If he saw Justin again, he wouldn't want to let him go. He would want to hold him, kiss him, comfort him, and tell him that everything would be all right. But it would all be a lie. He knew after last night that he couldn't make everything go away and return their relationship to the way it was. "I'll let you borrow my key to get in and you can return it later. I have an extra set," he explained. He had grabbed the other set before he had left the loft, anticipating the difficult task he would have to undertake.

Jennifer stood up to join him as Brian reached in his pocket and placed the key in her outstretched hand. "If you're sure that's the way you want to do it," she said. "Won't Justin wonder why I'm coming to get him instead of _you?" _

Brian shook his head. "I think it's for the best, Jennifer. I don't really want to go into it right now. Just please, do this for me, okay? I need to know he's all right and that he'll get the help he needs." _Even though my fucking heart is breaking_. "The only think I ask is that you let me know from time to time how's he doing…"

Jennifer smiled sadly in affection for this man who had metamorphosized into a caring, almost _selfless_ man when it came to her son. It was an astounding tribute to her son's ability to change those who knew him, which made her son's and Brian's situation so much more heartbreaking. "Count on it," she assured him gently, as she braced her hands on his upper arms to reach up and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Maybe someday….." She left the thought unfinished, but both of them knew they were wishing the same thing.

Brian, however, knew he couldn't hope for that; if Justin hadn't remembered by now and couldn't return his love that he felt for him, he knew it just would never happen, no matter HOW much the two of them might want it to. He shook his head. "No, Jennifer…he has to deal with things they way they ARE – we _both_ do, as much as I fucking HATE it. Just promise me you'll get him the help he needs. And if you need anything – money, resources, _anything_…..promise me you'll let me know. Just don't let him know about it, okay?"

She blinked to try and keep her tears from falling. "I promise," she vowed softly. Brian nodded his gratitude before he placed the half-empty coffee mug on the nearby coffee table and slowly walked toward the door. As Jennifer watched him leave, she looked down at the key tightly held in her hand, grieving along with Brian for what her son – and HE – had lost.


	46. Chapter 46:  I Remember!

_**A/N: Here is the chapter most of you have no doubt been waiting for - hope it doesn't disappoint. Thank you to those readers who pointed out my "inconsistency" in the last chapter - OOPS! I corrected it. And thank you to those who also overlooked my "mental deficiency" caused by writing at midnight - LOL! There will be at least one chapter of the story - thank you to everyone for the kind reviews and for sticking with me...!**_

* * *

_Kinnetik – One Hour Later_

Justin rushed toward the now familiar confines of Brian's agency, his heart racing at the thought of being able to tell his partner that he had remembered _everything_ – their past life together, their pain, their happiness, Gus, their hopes and dreams, but most of all – how much he _LOVED_ him and how much he was looking forward to their future – _TOGETHER_. He couldn't keep the beaming smile from appearing on his face; just _finally _having all the pieces fall into place felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was like the fog that had settled over his mind had finally, blessedly cleared. He still couldn't quite understand what had happened for his memory to return, and he perhaps never would. The only important thing right now, though, was that he find Brian and TELL him. They had so much to discuss and he had so much to make up to him. He recalled how he had painfully told Brian that he needed time apart from him to accept his affliction; in fact, he had just begun the process of having to come to terms with his memory loss being permanent before he had appeared at Brian's loft and they had finally made love for the first time in so long. Justin's face flushed deep pink with the recollection of how that had felt; God, it had been incredible. But he had virtually thrown himself at Brian and refused to give up until Brian had given _in_. He was so glad now that he had persevered, because the reward had been more than he ever would have thought possible – he had been given the miracle of his memory being restored. Now all he had to do was find the man who was responsible for it.

He yanked the door open and hurried in, hearing the normal sounds of Brian's employees performing their tasks and observing as usual the somewhat frenetic pace that his partner always seemed to inspire in others; along with Brian's genius at what he did, his employees' dedication and loyalty to him was what helped to make Kinnetik such a success in a relatively short period of time.

"Justin!" he heard Cynthia calling him as he raced around the corner and into Brian's private office; he stopped short, however, as he noticed to his disappointment that Brian apparently wasn't there. He peeked into the adjacent bathroom to verify he wasn't in there, either. "Justin!" he turned around as Cynthia rushed up to his side. She smiled widely at the familiar sight of her boss' partner; it was the first time she had had the chance to see the "miracle man" face to face. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, as she grabbed Justin into a hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek before releasing him. "It's _so_ good to see you!" Her eyes inexplicably filled with tears of joy, an abrupt departure from the tears of extreme sadness she had shed a few weeks ago when she had first heard news of the horrible accident in Harrisburg. She also remembered that moment of absolute devastation when Michael had appeared at Kinnetik right after the accident, the grief and unbearable pain etched in finality on Brian's face. She also recalled her total disbelief when Brian had told her that Justin had actually _survived_ the train accident; now here he was in front of her in the flesh and looking…._happy_.

She couldn't help feeling overjoyed for Brian that he had survived somehow. She had learned to appreciate the depth of her boss' deep feelings toward his more diminutive partner; but while Justin might be smaller in stature, he more than made up for it with his passion, his loyalty, and his larger-than-life presence in the older man's heart. When it came to his work, Brian was still the driven, ambitious, and self-confident man he had _always_ been; but since Justin had somehow crept his way into Brian's life, his partner had managed to transform him into a person who on occasion could show just a bit more of his compassionate and even _loving_ side, at least when it came to _this_ man.

Justin returned her smile, so happy that he actually knew who she was now; it felt so good to feel _normal_ again. "Hi, Cynthia…It's good to see you, too," he replied sincerely, his voice sure and confident. "Where _is_ he?" he asked anxiously; he bounced lightly up and down on his feet. He was so eager to see Brian and to tell him the wonderful news; he had a lot of lost time to make up for, and a lot to explain.

Cynthia frowned slightly. "I…._don't know_, Justin. After you called earlier, I tried to reach him because you had told me it was urgent. But he's not answering his cell – it's going straight to voicemail. I sent him an e-mail that he should read over his phone, but so far he hasn't called me back." She was relieved to see that while Justin appeared eager to talk to Brian, at least he didn't seem overly distressed about his inability to reach him, just extremely anxious to find him. It _was_ unusual for Brian not to keep in touch with her in case something pressing happened regarding a client's account.

Justin's face sobered somewhat, his profound disappointment almost palpable. Why in the world did his partner pick _NOW_ of all times to not answer his fucking phone? "I really need to speak with him, Cynthia. I'm going to try and find him, but if he DOES call you, will you _please_ tell him I have to talk to him? You can't imagine how important this is," he told her.

"Sure, Justin. Are you sure there isn't something _I_ can do to help you?" She knew from what Brian had told her that his memory had been impaired by the accident; Justin, however, did not seem that much different than she had ever remembered him acting, though.

Justin shook his head. "No…..thanks. I just really need to see him and talk to him right away." Cynthia nodded her understanding as Justin hurried out of Brian's office, intent on finding his partner. At least now that he had recovered his past memories, he knew all the familiar haunts where Brian might be. It was certainly unusual, however, for Brian not to be at work right now. But, of course, their lives had not exactly been normal lately. So the question remained – where would his partner have gone?

He thought he should start first at the diner; as he took off at a run for the nearest bus stop, he wondered how in the world he could have ever forgotten the place where so much of his life's adventures had either begun or ended. As he thankfully took his place a few minutes later in one of the bus' seats, all of the events in his life that had centered on that eatery appeared in his mind now with crystal-clear clarity. How could he have forgotten working there, eating meals with Brian and their friends, or coming in the next morning after the King of Babylon contest to find Brian trying so hard to act aloof and nonchalant about his victory the night before when they both knew that Brian had been jealous as hell? And how could he have forgotten his "second mother" who worked there, Debbie, who had selflessly taken him in all those times when he had nowhere else to go and had nurtured him and taught his own mother how to accept and love her gay son?

He nervously drummed his fingers on his legs as they jiggled up and down; he flipped open the phone he held in his hand to once again speed dial Brian's number, only to be sent directly to his voicemail again. _Brian – WHERE are you?_ his mind whispered urgently. _I've got to SEE you_. He huffed out an exasperated breath, watching the now familiar side streets go rushing by as the bus took him closer and closer to the Liberty Diner and hopefully to his partner.

He barely let the bus come to a stop before he stood up and rushed rather rudely ahead of all the other riders; at that moment proper passenger etiquette was the _last_ thing on his mind. He yanked the side door's handle open as soon as he was able to, and jumped down to the curb to jog the few dozen yards to the diner's corner location. He didn't care whether anyone recognized him or not right now; his focus was strictly on finding one particular person as he opened the entrance and rushed in. His eyes quickly scanned all the diners in the facility; his shoulders drooped as he realized Brian wasn't there. He was about to turn around and rush out of the diner to check the next possible destination for his partner – Woody's – when he heard an extremely well-known voice. "Sunshine!" Debbie screeched at him, totally heedless of the fact that she would be drawing attention to him. Justin winced slightly, not so much because he was unhappy to see her but because he really didn't want undue recognition right now. His goal was to find Brian and he didn't want to be hindered by well-meaning people swarming him for all the details on his miraculous rise from the dead.

Debbie rushed up to him and almost choked him in a tight bear hug as she firmly wrapped her arms around his slim body. "Ah…it's so fucking good to see you, Honey!" she cried out, unable to keep her voice at a low volume; after all, Debbie normally only had two volumes of speech – loud and earsplitting. At least for now she was merely at the "loud" level; most of the diners were so used to her boisterous greeting of her favorite diners that they thankfully did not notice just who she was currently fawning over. "What brings _you_ here?" she asked him, as she stepped back slightly to look him in the eyes. She was surprised by the blond's expression on his face. The other day he had been so subdued and had seemed so lost and sad; now Justin's face was animated and his eyes were bright and almost sparkling, as if they contained a flicker of recognition.

"I'm looking for Brian, Deb," he told her. "Has he been here?" he asked curiously.

She looked at him a little puzzled. Brian had been so protective of Justin lately, she was surprised the brunet had let Justin out of his sight. For Justin to be separated from Brian and not even know where he was presently was extremely unusual. What exactly had _happened_? "I haven't seen him today, Sunshine," she told him, reaching up to affectionately push some errant hair back from his forehead. "In fact, the last time I saw him was when he came in with _you_." She gazed at him thoughtfully. "Is something _wrong?" _she asked, concerned.

Justin sighed; everyone still wanted to baby him, just like right after his bashing. He supposed he really couldn't blame them for caring, even though he was old enough now that it did start to get just a little tiresome. His inside warmed, though, at the realization that at least he _could_ remember the actual bashing, even though that certainly wasn't the most pleasant of memories. That was one memory he wouldn't have minded forgetting permanently.

For a few seconds, Justin considered telling Debbie about his memory returning; but he wanted this special news to be given first to one person – _Brian_. He owed him that much, and he needed to see him so badly. "No, Deb, I'm fine…._more than fine_, actually," he added mysteriously as Debbie cocked her head curiously. She could tell there was something different about her young friend, but she couldn't tell exactly what it was.

Justin knew from Debbie's expression that she was dying to know exactly what was going on to make Justin so intent on finding his partner. That was as much as he was willing to divulge to her, however; the rest would have to come later – _after_ he had seen Brian. "I just really need to see him. If he _does_ come in, will you make sure he calls me?"

"Sure, Honey," she told him, her eyes searching his face for any clues. "I'll be glad to tell him." She reached to gently grasp his lower arm. "You feel thin," she declared. "Why don't you stay for some early lunch? I promise I won't make you eat the Pink Plate Special," she teased him.

Justin smiled at the remembrance of Debbie telling him about Kikki becoming so ill from eating the special a few years ago. "That's okay, Deb," he told her as he turned to go. Just before he opened the door to leave, he told her, "I don't like cod fish anyway." He left so quickly he didn't have a chance to notice Debbie's stunned expression on her face as she stood there, wondering how in the world Justin knew that.

An hour and a half later, Justin sat down on a nearby bench with his hands on his knees, covering his face in frustration and worry. Frustration over not being able to find Brian at Woody's, the baths, the gym, Michael's shop, the grocery, the video store, the Thai restaurant, or any other of their normal hangouts, and worry over what might have happened to him. He had visited all of their familiar spots, despite his desire not to be noticed. Thankfully, he had stayed in the background enough with his sunglasses and nondescript clothing that no one seemed to notice they were standing near the presence of a full-blown, walking miracle. He had thought he knew Brian well enough by now to feel confident he wouldn't have reverted back to his old habits and gone off somewhere on a drug and/or booze-soaked binge; however, this was not exactly a normal occurrence. Justin didn't forget his memory every day, especially his deep love for his partner, so there wasn't exactly a guidebook to go by when it came to this situation. None of their friends had seen any sign of Brian, and Justin was beginning to really get worried. _Where are you, Brian? I NEED you. _Fears that perhaps Brian _had_ decided to somehow blunt his fears with some unknown trick tore at Justin's heart. After what they had meant to each other – after what they had done last night – would Brian really risk throwing that away? As they were making love raw, didn't he realize last night how much he meant to him, even if he _didn't _remember? Or was Brian simply doing what Justin had demanded – fucking him to just help him forget his pain? Was it possible that Brian thought that was all it had been – a convenient method of pain therapy?

He shook his head to try and banish that fear from his mind, but it was no use. The mounting worries continue to escalate. He stood up and began to walk aimlessly, not really with any particular destination in mind. He needed someone to talk to, to listen to his troubles, and perhaps help him find Brian.

Forty minutes later, he realized he had been subconsciously walking toward the sympathetic ear he needed – his mother's condo. He sighed deeply, though, realizing that when he hadn't come home last night, his mother must have been frantic. He was so distraught after his meeting with Andrew, and his thoughts had been in such a jumble, that he hadn't even given much thought to his mother worrying about him. The guilt he felt over his treatment of Brian washed over into the same feelings toward his mother as his previously happy, overjoyed emotions were clouded with the reality of what he must have put both his mother AND Brian through. Would he ever get this right?

He slowly approached his mother's front door and quietly opened it. "Mom?" he softly called out. It didn't take long before his saw the slim, blond frame of his mother rushing toward him. "Justin!" she cried as she hurried over and took him in her arms. "Sweetheart, I've been so _worried_ about you! Are you all right?"

Justin clung to his mother's warm, familiar embrace for a few seconds as his arms automatically wound themselves around her slender body; he inhaled the sweet scent of her lightly-flowered perfume, noticing with pleasure that it was the same brand he had bought for her last Christmas. Oh, how wonderful it was to _know _that! His desire not to tell anyone about the recovery of his memories until his saw Brian again warred with his fervent need to let his mother know that everything would be all right. How could he not tell this woman who had stood by him through every toss and turn, just like his lover? Didn't she deserve the same honor?

He slowly pulled away from her to look her in the eyes – eyes that were so much like his own. He thanked her silently for providing him with the same type of gentle compassion and, sweet, caring nature that she possessed as she reached over to lightly place her right hand on his cheek.

"I'm _fine_, Mom," he told her softly. He lifted his own hand to cover hers and twine his fingers through her smaller hand to clasp it by his side as he spoke to her. "I'm sorry if I worried you. I should have called you last night when I knew I wouldn't be coming home." He averted his eyes a little in embarrassment, feeling the pink flush to his cheeks as he softly told her simply, "I was with Brian," as if that were the only explanation he needed to say.

He was surprised when she responded, "I _know_."

He raised his head to stare at her. "How did you _know_ that?" His heart leapt with excitement when she told him. _That must mean that she had spoken to Brian, and hopefully seen him!_

"I had a visitor this morning….._Brian_. He told me where you were – and that you were still sleeping." She eyed her son closely. Brian hadn't really disclosed too much to her earlier when they had spoken – only that Justin continued to feel tremendous guilt over not being able to remember the true complexity and depth of his and Brian's relationship, and that he felt he couldn't adequately give Justin the help he needed. "What exactly happened between the two of you?"

That last question didn't register much with Justin; his mind at stopped at mention of Brian being there this morning. Did his mom know where he was? "Mom…I need to find him," he told her urgently. "Do you know where he is? Tell me," he demanded quietly, his voice betraying his anxiety.

"Justin…I don't know where he is. But he _did_ tell me that he thinks you need some…._professional_ help."

Justin gasped slightly; partially in surprise and partially in aggravation. All he needed right now was BRIAN. "Mom," he began…..How much should he tell her right now? He needed to make her understand. "I don't need _professional help_," he repeated the euphemistic words disdainfully. "I need _Brian_." He broke free from his mother's embrace in frustration, pacing slightly in front of her. "Don't you have _any_ idea where he could be? Surely he told you _something _this morning." He was grasping for any clue as to Brian's whereabouts. He could go back to the loft and hope he had returned, but if he wasn't there, where else could he _be_?

"Justin…He told me that he has tried, and he didn't want to give up, but he just doesn't know what else to do to help you. He knows you need to accept things the way they are and try to move on with your life. He loves you and he's only trying to help you. He loves you so much, though, that he's willing to stand aside if it will mean you get the help you need."

"How many times do I _have_ to tell you, Mom? I don't NEED anything – or anyone else – except _BRIAN_. I LOVE him – I've loved him since the day I met him. YOU know that!" he told her in exasperation, forgetting that in his present state, SHE might realize that but her son did not – or DID he?

She looked at him, perplexed. If she didn't know better, she would say he sounded like her son before the accident – just a bit feisty, independent, and extremely sure of what he wanted, AND sure of his love for Brian, the one and only man he had ever really loved. "Justin…You say that like you _mean_ it," she told him in wonder. Just what was going on here? Could there be any more twists and turns to this crazy, topsy-turvy month?

"I DO mean it, Mom…," he answered with conviction, stopping to turn and look at her. "Ever since that night at Babylon, through school and the Prom, through his cancer, through my journey to New York City to start my art career, even through that sordid tale with Ethan…..I've always loved him," he told her softly as she stared at him with the beginnings of burgeoning comprehension.

"Justin…Are you…..Have you started to _remember_?" she asked him, her eyes reflecting the hopeful optimism in her voice. As Justin's face lit up and he smiled at her in response, her eyes widened in thankful amazement. "Oh, my God! My God, Justin! When?"

He smiled at her radiantly; he was actually glad to tell her about his amazing transformation. Even though he meant to tell Brian first, this was his _mother_. She deserved to know. "Last night," he verified to her. "I just began to start remembering when I was with Brian," he offered by way of explanation. He wasn't about to tell her that his memory had apparently been triggered by his mind staggering, over-the-top, sensual, orgasmic, extended fucking session with Brian while they were doing it raw. Some things were just not fit for a mother's ears.

"Oh, Justin! This is just _wonderful!_ Wonderful!" she repeated as she swept him again into her arms and spun him around as Justin couldn't help laughing in response. Yes, it was wonderful to finally remember. But he wouldn't feel totally happy or complete until he could share this news with Brian and tell him that he loved him even more than before. "Mom – you're going to choke the breath out of me," he protested good naturedly.

She reluctantly released him to give him a kiss on his cheek as she held his head in her hands. "Oh, Honey…..I'm so _happy_ for you. So very happy. It's a miracle – that's the only explanation." Her eyes filled with tears of joy for her son – and for Brian. _Brian…... "_Oh, my God…Brian….does he _know_?"

Justin smirked as he spread his arms out in frustration. "Why do you think I've been trying to FIND him? No, he _doesn't_ know….he left the loft this morning while I was still asleep and apparently came over here to see YOU. You don't have ANY idea where he went? Think, Mom – I need to find him."

She finally understood just why her son was so eager to find his partner. My God…..wait until Brian found out. She racked her brain as she recalled their conversation. They had talked mainly about how to help Justin; Brian hadn't said anything about his plans for the rest of the day. "He only left me his keys to the loft and asked me to go over and get you. He said he had an extra set so I could return them later. I didn't get the impression he would be going back to the loft for a while, though - he thought I was going over there first to get you." She noticed her son's face donning a faraway look. "Justin? What is it?"

Her son smiled hopefully. "I…think I may know where he is, Mom. Can I borrow your car?" he asked her urgently.

"Of _course_ you can, Honey. Where do you think he is?" she asked him curiously as she reached over to the nearby kitchen counter and retrieved her car key to hand it to him.

"I'd rather not say for now…..I hope you understand," he told her somewhat apologetically. "I'm not sure that's where he is, but if he IS there, I want to see him alone, in private. I don't want to jinx it." He curled his fingers hopefully around the cold, curved metal of his mother's key. "I have a lot to make up for," he explained softly. "I only hope it's not too late."

She smiled at him as she shook her head. "He knows you couldn't help it, Honey. And It's NOT too late. He _loves_ you so much, Justin; that hasn't changed. That man will ALWAYS love you. Go find him and tell him you remember and that you feel the same way about HIM. And….give him a kiss for me." At her son's amused look, she added, "Well, not _that_ kind of kiss….you know what I mean," she told him, a little embarrassed.

He smiled at her fondly as he reached up and kissed her cheek. "I will, Mom…..wish me luck. I only hope he's there," he called as he rushed out of the condo toward her car. _Please, Brian – be there. Don't give up on us - wait for me_, he silently prayed as he opened the car door and started the vehicle up. He couldn't think of anywhere else his partner could be – he HAD to be there.

_

* * *

_

Mid-Evening

As he sat on the dark brown leather couch, Brian stared at the flames licking the cherry wood logs he had stacked in the fireplace an hour earlier. Even though it was early spring, an unexpectedly cool evening had prompted him to start a fire. Or was it due more to the memories it conjured up of another time when he and Justin had lain in front of the same fireplace, making love to consummate their newly-formed engagement? He recalled how tenderly Justin had looked at him, how his partner had lightly caressed his back and his chest as he deeply stared, love struck, into his eyes. Brian remembered smiling back at him tenderly, his heart swelling with love for this wonderfully creative, sweet, and gentle man whose heart he had managed to somehow lasso.

He sighed; but that was then – this was _now. _THIS was the painful reality. He was here, alone, without Justin. Without the man he continued to love deeply, more than life itself. He knew the best way to prove to Justin how much he loved him was to let him go so he could move on and begin a new life without him. Just how was he supposed to go on _without HIM_, though? Just the mere thought of never being in Justin's life again felt like an enormous, jagged knife piercing his heart straight through to the other side.

His hand wrapped around the stout glass of Beam as he mindlessly swirled the ice cubes and amber liquid over and over again. The ice had melted substantially since he had first poured the glass; he had drunk so little in actuality since he had poured it that the ice had merely served to dilute the strength of the liquor. He found it ironic that he really didn't have much interest in drinking the bourbon; it was merely a prop, just like the crackling flames in the fireplace.

When he had found out from Justin that he had decided to come home to Pittsburgh for good, Brian had secretly begun to start furnishing Britin with masculine, overstuffed furniture becoming a fine manor. Whereas he had pursued a sleek, contemporary look for the loft, the walls inside Briton cried out instead for a grander scheme, one that was off-the-wall in terms of size and comfort. He wanted a living room, for instance, filled with classic design befitting more of a traditional look. He had strove to feed Justin's artistic side with objects that would inspire him to create new pieces of artwork and drive him to new avenues of expression. His only intention had been to make Justin happy, and he had hoped that by providing him with a fully furnished Britin, including a renovated library turned into a bright, light-washed art studio, he would do just that.

And he had had no doubt that he would have succeeded; Justin could have continued his goal of creating art for his own personal pleasure as well as providing him with a fairly lucrative income, and Brian would have had a residence less than 30 minutes from Kinnetik. He had even planned to work remotely from home as much as possible so he and Justin could be together frequently during the day; after all, he had steadfastly believed that a thoroughly-fucked Brian was a very _happy _Brian. And the thought of inviting Gus to spend the summers with them, playing baseball out in the fields or petting the horses he kept in the stables, had filled him with, yes, he could say it, _contentment_.

That goal, however, had changed exponentially when Justin had been hurt. His hopes for a happily-ever-after ending at Britin were never going to happen now, and his dreams of the two of them being together were dashed forever. Now, all he had was a lavishly-furnished mansion with broken promises and a broken heart. Without Justin now, there wasn't any reason to finish what he had started; his heart, which had previously been made more of stone than blood, just wasn't in it without his partner. He placed his glass down on the side table and brought his knees up on the couch; curling his hands around his lower legs, he mourned silently for what he had lost and for what was never to be again as he rocked back and forth slightly to stare at the orange/yellow tendrils of hypnotic flames.

As he continued to sit there in his contemplative state, he heard the beginning rumblings of an approaching thunderstorm; the occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the only other source of light in the room as he stared at the fire. The impending turbulent weather seemed to mirror his own, chaotic thoughts of turmoil as he sat there brooding in his unhappiness and emptiness.

"You're a _hard_ man to find, Brian Kinney," he unexpectedly heard a soft, achingly familiar voice as his heart lurched. He didn't dare turn his head, though, for fear that what he was hearing was just a callous hallucination. After all, what else could it _be_? As he heard soft footsteps and saw shadows dancing on the nearby wall, however, his heart began to take a leap of faith that maybe he wasn't dreaming at all.

He felt the back of a warm hand lightly stroke his cheek from behind as he closed his eyes in exquisitely painful recognition; he knew that touch instantly, intimately. _Justin_. He closed his eyes as he inhaled the sweet, well-loved scent of his lover – a scent so unique to this special man. _Justin._ He heard the quiet breathing from the body he had worshiped and adored for so long coming closer as the other man slowly walked around the couch to face him – _Justin_. Finally, he gasped slightly as he lowered his legs to the floor and felt the heated flesh of the slender body sitting on top of his thighs and the arms grasping his biceps to steady himself when he slowly opened his eyes to stare into the wide, sapphire blue ones of the man he loved unquestionably – _Justin_. "Justin….." he murmured softly, still not quite willing to believe that, despite the wonderful feel of the body on top of him, his partner was right there, sitting here facing him, smiling at him, looking at him like….

Brian stared back at Justin's face, which was almost glowing. His face was alit with a radiant smile that he had not seen in a long time, the lips parted and his white teeth slightly exposed between those oh-so-kissable lips. He felt Justin's hands slowly stroking his upper arms tenderly as the blond continued to stare at him intently. "What are you _doing_ here, Sunshine?" Brian murmured breathlessly, so captivated by the abrupt change in his partner's face that he almost forgot to breathe in and out. The previous look of frustration, pain, and guilt had somehow been pushed aside; the man now peering back at him tenderly resembled nothing of the distraught, hopeless man he had seen last night – the man who had practically pushed his way into Brian's loft and demanded he fuck him roughly in some sort of misguided form of pain therapy to help him forget. Not only was his face filled with happiness now, but his _eyes_…..He blinked, taking another peek at Justin's eyes. They were shining, flecked with hints of silver, large, radiant globes of the most royal blue color he had ever seen. They _almost_ looked just like they usually did when….. "Justin?" he asked his partner softly. _Just what was going ON here? _He reached his hands up to cup the pale cheeks tenderly, his eyes staring into his partner's searchingly for answers….. "What's going on? Why are you _here_?"

Justin smiled, his eyes sparkling. "I'm here because _you're_ here," he whispered. "I'm here because I _want_ to be here. I'm here because I can't live _without_ you. And I'm here because I _love you so much_, you stubborn, righteous, son of a bitch."

Brian's breath caught in his throat as he stared back into his partner's beautiful, expressive eyes. He hadn't been wrong. As he allowed himself to hope, he finally realized he was seeing _that look_. The one that only Justin could give him, the look that only Justin was _allowed_ to give and the only one that Brian freely took from another man. That almost possessive and also sexy look that said _I'm yours and you're mine_. He gasped softly. _What had happened between last night and NOW?_ "Justin?" He shook his partner's face slightly as he observed an almost goofy grin on his partner's face.

Justin smiled tenderly as he told his partner, "I want you to dive into me in the pool, go _riding _with me in the stables, and ram into me on the tennis courts." To emphasis his point, Justin chuckled softly and bounced playfully up and down on Brian's thighs. "In fact, I'm ready for a little RIDING _right now," _he told his partner as he gave him a quick slap on his ass as if he were astride a magnificent stallion. A louder clap of thunder abruptly sounded, so loud that it seemed to be right outside their window as the rain began to pelt against the glass. Justin jumped a little in surprise as he bit his lip wistfully, a poignant memory suddenly rising to the surface, one that was easily recaptured this time. "This reminds me of the last time we made love before I left for New York." He looked over at Brian meaningfully.

Brian stared at him, dumbfounded. They had talked at great length since Justin's return from Harrisburg about their past life together, and Brian had done his best to fill Justin in on what he had forgotten. But as he racked his brain, he couldn't for the life of him recall ever talking to Justin about that…OR about their discussion at the loft about what Justin wanted to do with him at Britin for "leisure time activities." _The infamous "wouldn't you rather just cuddle?" discussion…._

Justin huffed in frustration; how dense could this man _be? _Did he have to _spell it out for him_? Fortunately, he was thankfully spared the trouble, however, when Brian seemed to finally understand; his face changed from one of puzzlement to one of hopeful enlightenment as he stared at his lover's animated face and realization dawned. "I never told you about that, Justin," he told his lover tentatively…. "did I?" _Please…let this mean what I HOPE it means…_

Justin's smile was radiant as he realized that FINALLY Brian got it. "No, you didn't," he told his partner triumphantly. "I _REMEMBERED_," he said, beaming. "I remembered it ALL." He placed his hands on Brian's shoulders and gave them a squeeze as he watched with fascination as Brian's expression slowly changed to one of ecstasy and euphoria. "You _remembered?_" Did Brian really hear that right? Please, let him be right….

"Ding, ding, ding….The man gets a prize!" Justin shouted, placing his hands up in the air like he was attending an outdoor religious revival and had just been converted. "Me!" he announced, smiling widely.

Brian's mouth flew open in delighted shock. "But….but _how_?" he managed to sputter. "When?" His mind was whirling amidst this fantastic, utterly unbelieveable chain of events.

"Uh…..Question #1 – not sure. Question #2 – last night after you fucked my brains out. Must be only one logical explanation, then – it's the Kinney magic at work," he announced with solemn conviction. "If _someone_ hadn't worn me out last night and had stuck around _this morning_, they would have FOUND OUT sooner." His eyebrows raised in mock reproach as he gazed at the wondrous hazel eyes of his lover, whose face was slowly beginning to smile at the realization that what he thought had happened really DID happen.

"Well?" Justin said challengingly, as if to say, "_What are you going to DO about it, Kinney?"_ before Brian suddenly grasped him by the waist and stood the two of them up as he hoisted him in the air in jubilation and twirled them around and around. "You _remembered? _You fucking _REMEMBERED?" _

Justin laughed in joy as he held on to Brian's neck for dear life. "Yes!" he shouted as he placed a firm kiss on the brunet's lips. "Yes!" as he nipped playfully at Brian's earlobe, right where it always made Brian crazy. "Yes!" he cried once more, as Brian finally gently lowered his feet to the ground.

The cacophonous sound of thunder clapping right outside their home and the frequent flashes of lightning were summarily forgotten as the two men stared deeply into each other's eyes. Brian was a little embarrassed to feel the sting of newly-formed tears in his eyes as he cupped Justin's face with his hands and saw _that look_ – the one that said I love you. I _remember_ you. "Yes," Justin whispered softly. "I fucking _love you_, Brian Kinney. And I want to grow old with you." Justin couldn't help adding, "Of course, _you'll_ be old before I AM." His eyes twinkled as he continued, "Before you forget, you think you could refresh my memory about the preferred technique of eating ass and giving blowjobs as referenced in the _Brian Kinney Fucking Manual_?"

Brian glared mockingly at him but he couldn't maintain the look for long; he was too deliriously happy to finally have his partner back where he belonged. He curled his lips under in amusement. "There's a new king-sized bed upstairs….Why don't I _SHOW _you?" As the rainstorm continued to rage outside all night long, the only other sounds heard inside Britin for the next several hours were those of laughter and lovemaking.


	47. Chapter 47:  Poppa's Back!

_Britin – Next Morning_

Justin's eyes slowly fluttered open as he became aware of the sun's rays pouring into the master bedroom. As he lay on his back, he smiled, relieved that he could easily recall the astounding events of the day before; his urgent search for Brian, his successful trip here to Britin to be reunited with him, and his partner's reaction to the discovery that he had finally remembered everything about their past, including their love for each other. Justin turned his head slowly to gaze at his beautiful partner, who was still sleeping. Brian was lying on his back, one hand by his side with his other one lying lightly on Justin's chest. It was almost as if, even while asleep, Brian was reassuring himself that Justin was indeed by his side, alive and well.

After he and Brian had made love last night – over and over again – Brian had fallen asleep almost immediately, sated and happy; Justin, however, found that he could not go to sleep, no matter how much he willed himself to obey. Brian's slow, sweet, and tender worshipping of his body had made Justin feel so cherished and loved; he normally would have readily fallen asleep, deliriously happy in his partner's arms. But while his body had been exhausted and ready to surrender to slumber, his mind had not – it continued to swirl with a kaleidoscope of visions and sensations. It was as if he had been afraid to close his eyes and sleep for fear that when he awoke this morning, he would forget everything all over again and he would be thrown once more into an abyss of misery and frustration. So he had just lain there, listening to his lover's soft, regular breathing until his overactive mind had _finally_ surrendered to sleep near dawn. To his consternation, however, he had only been able to sleep for a few hours before he inexplicably awoke yet again when the glaring flood of sunlight rushed unheeded through the bare, floor-to-ceiling windows.

But perhaps in the end it didn't really matter; he could sleep later. Right now the only important thing was the wonderful, incredibly strong man lying next to him and the fact that he could recall everything that had happened between them – every day, every hour, every second. He let out a long, shaky breath of gratitude – gratitude that he could still remember _all_ of it. He bit his lower lip as his breath caught at the sight next to him. _God, I love you so, Brian Kinney_, he declared silently as he reached over to softly brush back some auburn hair that had fallen over his lover's closed eyes. His fingers strayed lower to lightly trace the well-known lips – those lips that not only knew exactly how to drive him insane with desire but also speak words of wisdom, strength and encouragement to him when he needed them the most.

He started a little and laughed softly when he watched as Brian's hand begin to travel down the length of his chest toward his navel and below, even though Brian hadn't opened his eyes or moved any other part of his body. He _did _notice, however, that a certain part of his lover's anatomy had begun a march toward revival as his partner's hand continued _ITS_ march toward his own quickly awakening cock. "Brian….." he murmured softly. The only response he received was a rising of one expertly-manicured eyebrow. "Forget it, Brian," Justin chided him, a little louder now. "I know you don't sleepwalk….."

Brian curled his lips under tightly, but he was unable to keep the smile from appearing on his face. He was just too damned happy to care at the moment. He opened his eyes and turned his head to stare lovingly into the well-known eyes of his sweet partner. His gentle, sweet partner. He was so relieved to still see _that_ _look_ in his face – the same one he had been given last night that said _I love you, I adore you, and I REMEMBER you._ So little was still known about Justin's injury and how it had affected him; in some paranoid way, he had been worried that he would wake up and see that terrible empty look on his partner's face again, devoid of emotion, but thankfully he did not. The eyes sparkling back at him were the ones he had fallen in love with and had woken up to every day before Justin had went away to New York. He was so happy to realize that from now on, he could once more count on gazing into those eyes each morning when he arose. He made a silent vow that he would make waking up with him every day one of the most important daily events in his life going forward, because he knew all too well now that without Justin, his life wouldn't be worth living anyway.

"Who said anything about _sleepwalking_?" Brian huskily growled, as he turned to face Justin, his head propped up on his elbow as he studied him intently. "I thought I'd let my _fingers_ do the walking," he said, as he resumed his languid trek toward his ultimate goal. Justin smiled at him and rolled his eyes as Brian finally latched onto his cock and started firmly stroking it. The blond moaned as a wave of pleasure hit him and his body shuddered at the incredible, skilled ministrations of his lover; after all this time, Brian could play his body like a consummate musician, taking him to heights of staggering euphoria in no time. This morning was no exception as Justin's body arched in response to his partner's loving, feathering touch.

"Bri-an," Justin pleaded breathlessly. He gasped as Brian raked the fingernail of his thumb along the underside of his cock before he rubbed the sensitive end back and forth against the pad of his finger. "Before you finish your little _trek_ through the…."

"Eighth wonder of the world?" Brian finished for him cheekily, receiving a light slap on his head in return as he chuckled against Justin's stomach; the vibration tickled the blond's skin and caused him to laugh softly.

He reached to grab Brian's hand to still it, producing a groan of protest from the brunet. "Can't you wait at least a _little while_ for breakfast?" he asked the man, shaking his head. "You're _insatiable_, Mr. Kinney." _An insatiable, sleek and sexy cat_, Justin decided.

The look that Brian was giving him made his heart jump; it happened every time. Thank God he _knew_ that now; he could _remember_ it. "Only when it comes to you, Sunshine," was the heartfelt whisper.

Justin smiled as the tears sprang to his eyes at the look of love he was receiving and Brian's unexpectedly sincere reply. Brian began to stroke his hand tenderly, causing goose pimples to break out on his skin. Justin brought Brian's hand up to his heart and curled his fingers around it, both an overt action and a symbolic gesture of his love for this man.

"What could be more important than _fucking_?" Brian asked him as he smiled over at him innocently. "After all, I'd estimate that we have at least 500 sessions to make up for."

"Five _hundred_? How do you get that?"

Brian nodded. "Well….I figured out there's been approximately four months from the last time we fucked until now. That's 120 days."

Justin looked over at him, eyebrows raised in question. "Okay…..but you said five _hundred_ times, not 120." Justin already figured he knew what Brian was going to say but he decided he'd make him work for it anyway.

"You _did _tell me you've remembered _everything_, right?" Brian asked.

Justin nodded firmly as he continued to softly caress Brian's hand against his chest. Yeah…everything."

"Whew…..you had me worried for a minute there. Well, then, what's the _problem_ with my calculation? 120 times at four times a day comes up to 480. Add in 20 more for times when we're feeling particularly frisky and that comes up to 500." He rattled off the numbers as if they were a no-brainer; after all, it was simple math, wasn't it?

Justin snorted, curling his lips under in profound amusement. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Kinney. My bad." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he continued. "With that many times to make up for, we'd better get started then. Allow me to begin with the _appetizer_ first," he suggested helpfully. He raised Brian's hand to his mouth to begin suckling each long finger individually. He heard Brian's intake of breath as he continued to leisurely lavish his wet tongue and lips all over each succulent digit of his lover's hand. "Mmmm," he murmured, smacking his lips dramatically as he pulled Brian's last finger out of his mouth with a resounding pop. "Delicious," he declared, smiling impishly.

Brian's heartbeat was racing and his patience was quickly wearing thin the longer his partner took to torment him as he enjoyed his _pre-breakfast snack. _"Enough of the _appetizer_, Sunshine," he growled; Justin giggled as Brian suddenly pushed him down onto the mattress to tower over him. "Time for the morning _turnover,_" he demanded, as he nudged his partner to comply. Two hours later, Brian was able to tick off a couple more fucks, bringing their deficit down to a mere 498 times.

_

* * *

_

One Week Later – Britin – Evening

"Brian?"

"Back here, Lindsey," Brian promptly responded from the living room. Lindsey found him sitting in a window seat overlooking the backyard as he sipped from his coffee mug. She smiled when she found him. She was still so startled to notice the change in Brian's appearance now. His relaxed pose and animated face were so dramatically opposite the haggard, grief-stricken and haunted shell of a man she had seen a few weeks ago when he thought Justin had died.

The two of them exchanged tender smiles as she walked over to join him by the window. She sat down and gently squeezed his arm. "It's _so_ good to see you smile again," she told him as she followed his gaze outside. In the countryside away from the lights of the city, the multitude of stars were incredible, affording their own spectacular show as thousands of them sparkled against the moonless, inky night sky.

"I've got a _reason_ to now," Brian replied truthfully. He turned to look at her a little guiltily. "I mean….you know I love Gus," he hastily explained. "It's just…_different_ with Justin. You know what I mean," he said softly, shrugging a little.

Lindsey smiled. "Yeah….I know," she answered. "You've always loved your son - that's not in question," she assured him. "But Justin's always been your _heart_." He turned to look at her; his lips twisted in a sort of self-deprecating expression. "Please…" he murmured, rolling his eyes. "Don't go all _lesbian_ on me," he told her, but she could see a twinkle in his eyes.

"Don't worry…..your secret's safe with me, Stud," she teased him as she patted him on the arm.

He took a sip of his drink before he murmured, "Sometimes it still seems like a dream, like I'm going to wake up and find out this was all in my imagination. To think it was just a few weeks ago that I thought that Justin was never coming back; the whole thing is just so _surreal_." His face scrunched up a little at the still painful thought of that horrible time. He _never_ wanted to experience what he had gone through then. "You know, in a way the worst part was the thought that I would have to tell Gus what had happened. I'm so glad I didn't have to do that."

Their conversation was interrupted by Mel rushing into the room. Overhearing their conservation, she asked, "Speaking of which, has anyone seen our son?" she said, concerned. "I haven't seen him in over an hour - not since dinner; with Gus that's _more_ than enough time for him to get into a lot of trouble." She looked around the living room before sighing. "I was hoping he was with one of you."

Brian frowned; Mel was right – he hadn't seen him in quite some time and with Gus that was unusual; that and the fact that he could be quiet enough to hide his whereabouts. He looked over at Lindsey, who shook her head to verify she hadn't seen him, either.

Brian placed his coffee mug down on a nearby window ledge and stood up. "This house is so fucking huge that he could be _anywhere_. Let's hope he's not playing hide and go seek or we'll _never _find him; at least, not until he's reincarnated later and he starts rattling some chains somewhere."

"Brian!" Lindsey scolded him as she stood up to join him; she was beginning to get a little worried herself. "This is NOT funny!"

Brian rolled his eyes at her. "I'm just kidding, _Wendy, _don't go getting your panties in a knot. Here's got to be here somewhere. We'll just split up and look for him."

They were about to do just that when the beginning refrain of a familiar, silly and inane tune began to reverberate through the house. Brian let out a relieved laugh and snorted. "I think we've found him," he said. "And someone _else_, too." When he had come down to make some coffee about an hour ago, Justin had told him he was going to do a little painting upstairs in the newly-refurbished library-turned-studio. Apparently his partner had been diverted from that plan.

The three of them exchanged relieved grins and walked over to the large, ornate mahogany staircase to descend up to the upper floor's rear corner room, where Justin's spacious new artist's studio was located. When Brian had first spied this room on his initial tour, his first thought was how perfect it would be for Justin; the corner location received not only plentiful sunlight but provided him with several variously-sized shelves to handle his numerous art supplies. And its location at the far end of the floor also gave his partner the privacy he sometimes craved when he was deep in thought over his latest creation.

As they neared the room, the sounds of the tune became louder and they could distinctly hear giggling and a high pitched squealing coming from the open doorway.

_In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight…In the jungle, the quiet jungle, the lion sleeps tonight…Wheeeee, oh, oh, oh, aweena, way, aweena, way..._

Brian smirked. "That's either Justin with Gus, or there's two cats fighting in there…." He placed his finger across his lips to signal to the two women to be quiet as they stealthily crept toward the open door.

As they craned their heads around the door frame to peek in, they observed Gus swaying in time to the music in front of Justin, who was holding his arms up as he danced with him. Gus' face was vividly painted in shades of brown, white, and yellow, complete with whiskers and a black nose, and he was wearing some type of hairy wig containing light brown fake fur that spiked out from all directions in a semblance of some unkempt lion's mane.

"Looks like Justin's finished his latest masterpiece," he quipped quietly as the two women laughed softly. He found his voice catching as he spoke; he swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat at a sight he never thought he would ever seen again – his partner and his son together again, looking totally goofy and deliriously happy.

"Daddy!" he heard his son cry excitedly as he spied the three watching their _performance_. "Look what Poppa did! He made me into a lion!" He growled ferociously (at least to _his_ ears) as Justin smiled affectionately before releasing him so he could run over to his _other_ father and into his outstretched arms.

As Brian scooped him up and cradled the little body in his arms, he gave his son a brief kiss on the cheek as he replied, "I see that, Sonny Boy. You look just like Simba." Gus beamed at the compliment as a tender look passed between the two men – one that spoke volumes of their commitment and love for each other. "I think Sunshine's outdone himself on _this_ masterpiece."

Lindsey shook her head in amusement as Justin reached to turn the CD down to a more respectable level. "We were _wondering _where Gus had run off to," she told Justin. "I should have known he would be up here with you." Since they had arrived this morning as a result of Brian's invitation that they spend a few days with him and Justin at Britin, the chance to see Gus' _Poppa_ and his _Daddy_ again was the only thing the little boy had talked about.

Mel added, "I thought _somebody_ would be worn out after riding his pony all afternoon. I think I forgot how much energy somebody has." She smiled as she looked in wonder at the young man standing in front of her; like everyone else, she was having a hard time convincing herself that his presence here with them wasn't some figment of her imagination. But she was so glad it wasn't; despite her differences with Brian in the past, she had to grudgingly admit that the man had softened and even matured in the past few years, largely due in part to his sweet, compassionate partner standing in front of her. _I guess love can change ANYONE…..even Brian_.

Gus squirmed excitedly in his father's arms, anxious to get back to his dancing with his _Poppa_. "Down, Daddy," he instructed his father, who smiled and gently lowered his feet to the floor. As soon as he hit the ground, the little boy rushed back to Justin to continue their dancing. "Turn it up, Poppa," Gus urged him, pulling on his arm toward the CD player. Justin laughed at his impatience. "Okay, Buddy," he agreed as he allowed himself to be dragged back to a corner table where he had set up his portable stereo, mainly as a means of listening to music that might inspire him to paint. Right now, however, it was being used for a more important purpose – reintroducing himself to his and Brian's son.

"You realize, Sunshine, that you will be responsible for taking that artistic creation off Sonny Boy's face and getting Simba into bed, don't you?" Brian pointed out. If his partner was going to get their son all wound up just before bedtime, the least he could do was also get him settled back down enough so that he would go to sleep. He really didn't envy him _that_ assignment, however; he knew how stubborn one little boy could be when he didn't want to do something, and something told him that he wasn't going to be too happy about having to stop what he was doing and go to sleep. If anyone could do it, though, he knew it would be Justin.

"Oh…..I hadn't thought of that," he told Brian, scrunching up his face in mock horror as he acknowledged the challenge he was going to be facing. But as he looked down at Gus' beaming face, he decided it was worth it. The adoring, radiant look he was getting was priceless to him. Squaring his shoulders, he turned up the CD before telling Gus, "Okay, Simba, let me hear you _ROAR_," he urged the little boy, who happily obliged as he began to snarl and stick his hands up in a curved shape as if they were claws of a ferocious beast.

"Well, then, we will leave this wild man in your capable hands," Brian cracked as he smiled. "Good luck," he said, chuckling, as the three turned to leave. Before they did, however, Mel and Lindsey watched Brian lingering just a little longer in the doorway, watching his lover and his son wistfully. They pretended not to notice that there were tears in Brian's eyes as he finally turned to look at them, smiling softly, as they walked together back down the steps, knowing now that their son was in good hands.

_

* * *

_

One Hour Later

Mel and Lindsey, tired from being up since dawn that morning in preparation for their trip, had bade Brian goodnight a short while ago; since Michael was watching JR, they had decided to take advantage of that and retire fairly early; now, he sat in one of the living room's leather chairs, enjoying the solitude of staying in the country, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city life. He had never thought in a million years he would enjoy living in a place where there were more _cows _than people, and the most exciting event to happen in the area was the annual county fair. But as he sat there, relishing the quiet whispers outside of crickets, whippoorwill calls, and owls, interspersed periodically with the crackling sound of the fireplace, he closed his eyes in contentment. He had material richness beyond compare now, but the most precious richness he possessed was upstairs together – a special little boy and a wonderful man that made him so incredibly happy; happier than he had ever thought possible.

As a particularly loud crackle burst from the fire, he opened his eyes and decided it was time for him to retire, too. Turning off the dimly-lit table light and bathing the room in a flickering dance of shadows from the flames, he quietly walked up the steps and turned left toward the master bedroom. Before he reached the room, however, he slowed in front of the spare bedroom Justin had specially designed for Gus shortly after Brian had purchased Britin. As he looked through the doorway, he realized he wouldn't find his partner in their bed, because he was sitting up in Gus' double-sized bed, holding his son's favorite story in his hands, _Ghost Town at Sundown_. Gus' favorite cowboy hat was lying beside him and the boy, face now freshly scrubbed, was lying halfway across Justin, his brown head on his Poppa's lap, fast asleep, as was Justin, whose blond head was tilted at a rather odd angle against the headboard. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed softly in and out in slumber, his left arm placed protectively on the little boy's shoulder.

Brian stood there, drinking in the sight of his son and the man he loved so deeply; this time, he didn't even try to staunch the flow of tears that sprouted in his eyes. He pursed his lips to prevent a sniffle from being audible as he wiped the tears from his face and slowly walked toward them.

Reaching down to retrieve the lightweight cover that had fallen to the end of the bed, he quietly placed it over his son's small body before leaning over to place a soft kiss on his lover's forehead. "I love you, Sunshine," he whispered to Justin, who seemed to smile in his sleep in response. Brian stared at the two of them for a few seconds before turning to go. As he headed toward his and Justin's bedroom, he decided this was one time he didn't mind sleeping alone. After all, the _Kinney-Taylor Team _would have the rest of their lives for that now - _together._

* * *

_**Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing - I have enjoyed writing it! I'm off to Stir up Some More Trouble now - have to have a new story up soon! :)**_


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